The von Karma Family Beach Trip
by CzarThwomp
Summary: They say that Manfred von Karma only took a single vacation in his entire career, but what if he actually took, or was forced on, another one so unbearable that he wished that it never happened? This is the story of that vacation; the first and last time that Manfred ever took his family to the beach. Knowing how my material goes, this is rated T just to be on the safe side.
1. Y'know, You Need a Vacation, von Karma

**Disclaimer: All material used in this fanfiction belongs to its respective owner(s) and I am not associated with them in any way, shape, or form. I, the writer of this fanfic, claim none of it as my own in this non-profit, non-canon fanfic.**

 **A/N:** What better way to celebrate the holiday season, a time for family bonding, than by starting a story involving the one and only family vacation taken by the von Karma family? Anyways, like with the last von Karma family story I wrote, this will be a flashback fanfic so the ages will be much younger. For the sake of convenience, at the beginning of a chapter I'll list the ages of the characters that are first introduced in the chapter.

 **Manfred: 57 years-old**

 **Franziska: 9 years-old**

 **Blaise: 57 years-old**

With that, I hope that you enjoy the first chapter of _The von Karma Family Beach Trip_.

* * *

Manfred always despised the foolish 'holiday' known as Take Your Child to Work Day. Children belonged in school, learning the skills needed for life, not running around the Prosecutor's Office, screaming like they're at a playground and touching things with their sticky hands. How every child except Edgeworth and Franziska always had such sticky hands always baffled the legendary prosecutor.

However, despite how much Manfred loathed the 'holiday' and fought against it, the Chief Prosecutor, Blaise Debeste, made it a requirement for every prosecutor with a child to bring them to the Prosecutor's Office so that they could 'learn about the inner machinations of this great nation's complex and highly-nuance Justice System'. But Manfred knew the real reason behind Blaise's actions- the sadistic Chief Prosecutor only did this as a way to rile him up and get a sick laugh at his expense. It may have sounded egotistical, but how else could one explain why the man who despised his own son with a burning would put an emphasis on day dedicated to family, including a mandatory picnic at the nearby park, complete with carnival-style games?

But Manfred wouldn't let his demented superior have the last laugh. He wouldn't be bested by some unfashionable man who wears copious amounts of tight leather and foolishly wears his prosecutor's badge on his lapel. No, Manfred wasn't going to put up with this nonsense, so while he did bring Franziska to the Prosecutor's Office- because unlike these other foolish children who were busy picking their noses and eating them, his perfect daughter was set to take the Bar Exam and become a prosecutor herself in a few short years and thus needed to see the workings of the Prosecutor's Office- he did not sign them up for any of Debeste's foolish games and sent the Chief Prosecutor a sternly-worded letter voicing his disapproval.

And thus how Manfred found himself spending valuable time that he could be devoting to creating yet another flawless case for one of his next trials sitting in Blaise Debeste's abomination of an office that served as a shrine to the Chief Prosecutor's childhood dream of being a 60's motorcycle gang leader- complete with tire spokes nailed to the walls like picture frames, a glass case containing a mannequin wearing an original 1966 mint-condition Bandidos leather jacket, and a large black pirate flag hanged on the wall behind his bright red leather chair.

As Manfred sat in a smaller red leather chair across from Blaise, he couldn't help but breathe an irritated sigh and roll his eyes upon seeing his superior's eyes fill with crocodile tears as the lanky man read over the former's letter.

"Y'know, von Karma… This letter… It really hurts me, y'know! I treat you with nothing but respect and kindness over the years and _this_ is how you repay me? By calling me, and I quote, 'a fool who is as hypocritical as he is unfashionable?' It's enough to bring a tear to my eye, y'know…" Blaise whimpered, tugging at his beard with his free hand before taking his lighter and burning the letter to ashes.

"Don't waste your tears, Debeste. I've known you for far too long for them to have any effect on me." Manfred said curtly, grabbing at his sleeve. "In regards to that sentence, if you are indeed not a hypocrite, then why would you, the man who tried, and failed, to ship his son off to Siberia in a cardboard box-"

"That wasn't my fault, y'know! Sebastian's tears soaked and broke through the cardboard, y'see!" Blaise growled as the flame from his lighter flared up.

"As I was saying, if you aren't hypocritical, then explain why a man who hates his only son would require all prosecutors with families to participate in this foolish holiday?"

Blaise started playing with his lighter. "Y'know, I never denied the fact that I'm a hypocrite, von Karma; but even if I did, who are you to throw stones from a glass house?"

"And what is that supposed to mean."

"Nothing. Just before you start calling people unfashionable, maybe you should take a good look in mirror. But then again, based on your fashion choices, you probably wouldn't see anything." Blaise sneered.

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean, Debeste?" Manfred slowly, yet sternly, asked.

"You heard me, von Karma! Y'see, you constantly scorn me for my choice of outfit and how I wear my prosecutor's badge on my lapel- y'know, like how you're supposed to- yet here you are, dressed like you robbed Dracula's closet, strutting around with that fruity napkin-thing of yours, doling out fashion advice like you're Liberace!" Blaise yelled.

"One, it is not a 'fruity napkin-thing', it is a cravat, you bone-headed buffoon." Manfred huffed. "And second, my outfit is incredibly fashionable."

"Y'know, von Karma, that outfit when have been fashionable when James Polk was president back in 1845, but last I checked, we were in the 21st Century. Y'see, we've made many considerable changes since then- one of which includes inventing disposable napkins so we don't have to carry one around with us at all the time, y'know?." Blaise commented.

"Bah! You just can't appreciate the sophistication and class that a cravat brings."

"Here we go again…" Blaise groaned, rolling his eyes.

Manfred cocked his head in confusion. "'Again?' To what is that referring to?"

"That cockney attitude of yours, Manfred. Y'see, ever since you, Damon, and I were kids, you always had that snobby, holier-than-thou attitude; and whenever we wanted to do anything fun, you were right there to put the kibosh on it." Blaise started crying and tugging on his beard. "'Blaise, don't put salt in Ms. Oldbag's coffee!' 'Blaise, don't roll that fat Grossberg kid down that hill!' 'Blaise, don't go around stealing girls' panties!' 'Blaise, focus more on your studies or you won't succeed in life!'"

"It is not my fault that I had to be the responsible one in the group to clean up after your and Gant's messes." Manfred snapped his fingers. "You should be thanking me, for without my help, you would have both been nothing!"

"Right Manfred, because I sure as heck made Chief Prosecutor by knowing the structure of a cell and what a conjunction is."

"No, you only became Chief Prosecutor because I turned down the position due to the fact that a perfect prosecutor belongs in the courtroom, not behind a desk getting complacent and fat. You merely licked up the scraps that fell from my table of glory!" Manfred retorted.

"Oh, you're perfect?" Blaise rhetorically asked as he started playing with his lighter. "Because a certain little penalty from December 28th, 2001, says differently, y'know."

"That penalty does not count! Gregory Edgeworth was a sore loser and was merely grasping at straws!" Manfred retorted.

"That doesn't change the fact that that trial went on for an entire year, y'know?"

"That's because Edgeworth was too stupid to just lie down and accept his inevitable defeat."

A large grin spread across Blaise's face. "Y'know, if I was handling that trial, I would have had that guilty verdict bagged by the end of that first day with my awe-inspiring courtroom strategy: Operation Have-the-Hopeless-Defendant-Accept-a-Plea-Bargain-and-then-Turn-on-Them-and-Get-Them-a-Life-Sentence! It was so simple that it was brilliant, y'see? Just act friendly to the defendant, make them feel like you wanna help them, get them to tell you some confession- complete with method, motive, etc.- and then use it to get them a full conviction. Not only would I get a guilty verdict in no time flat, but I'd also get a good laugh at seeing the stupid, dumbfounded looks on the faces of both the defendant and their attorney, y'see." Blaise chuckled. "… I truly am the best."

"Bah! Any prosecutor worth their salt could use that pathetic strategy. A real prosecutor gets the job done by breaking the defendant's spirit during interrogation and then crushing their attorney's foolish argument into oblivion with decisive evidence and a decisive witness."

Blaise started playing with his lighter. "Tomato, tomatoe. Everyone's different and has their own preferences, y'know. Some people like chunky peanut butter while other like creamy; some people work better at night while others work best during the morning; and some people prefer to dress as a cool biker who plays by his own rules while others would rather dress like dead presidents. That's right, Manfred, this may come off as a shock to you, considering your ego-inflated head could be used as a float in the Macy's Day Parade, but your opinion isn't the only one that matters and people are allowed to think differently from you. That's one of the lessons that we want to teach the kids by showing them how their parents interact with others in the workplace, y'see."

Manfred rolled his eyes. "Oh, like your parents' were great role models in terms of career choices? A father who worked as a floundering defense attorney and a mother who sent more men to the free clinic than a flu outbreak?"

"My mother was an escort, not a call girl! Big difference, y'know!" Blaise yelled. "Say what you will about my pops and ma, at least they _had_ jobs, unlike your parents who would spend all day sitting on your lawn, 'protesting the Man', before running off and starting a commune when we were 16!"

"Do you think that bothers me? It was because of those deadbeat parents of mine that I strove to become perfect. I respected them as much as your mother respected Gant and my personal space with how she constantly tried to give us massages whenever we'd go to your house." "Manfred said with a wry smile.

A large pillar of flame erupted from Blaise's lighter as he glowered at Manfred. "Y'know Manfred, you're starting to make me mad, and as y'know, when I'm mad, people start to disappear! You wanna disappear, von Karma!?"

"Bah!" Manfred sneered. "Like your little threats scare me. You would never get rid of me because if you did, you'd have to replace me with another prosecutor- one who could do a little snooping and uncover some rather unsavory details regarding you that I've kept under wraps in exchange for you doing the same for me."

Von Karma was right; Blaise had it too good with Manfred. Sure, the guy may have had the social skills of a walnut, but he was predictable and easily bribed with the prospect of unimpeded victory. That, and the Prosecutor's office would be a whole lot less fun without Manfred there to bully. But Manfred had to pay for that buffoon remark, as well as those comments about his promiscuous mother. It was the very definition of a paradox- to punish von Karma without truly punishing him; but within that paradox, an idea came into Blaise's mind- a deviously wicked idea for a punishment so fitting for von Karma that he'd have the 'perfect' prosecutor begging for death.

Blaise started playing with his lighter. "Y'know, von Karma, I think it would be a good idea not to have the family picnic today."

"I'm glad that you've finally wised up and are seeing things my way and have chosen to cancel that foolish outing." Manfred said with a smug grin. However, his grin so disappeared when Blaise flashed him one of his own.

"Oh, I'm not canceling it. Y'see von Karma, we have to celebrate Take Your Child to Work Day because if we don't, people will complain that their kids aren't able to learn from their jobs and will start protesting, causing a backlog in cases. That's why I'm going to postpone the picnic until tomorrow when you're not here to ruin their fun with your snobbery."

"'When I'm not here?' What kind of foolish nonsense is that? As the perfect prosecutor, I am always present." Manfred gloated.

"Not if you're taking a vacation, you aren't."

"I do not do vacations. I have taken but a single vacation during the course of my illustrious career and that number shan't double."

"Y'know, von Karma, I can respect that. But just so you know, when you're at the family picnic with little Franziska and Miles, I'll break the ice by telling everyone there about that little incident at Gant's slumber party when we were 12." Blaise sneered as Manfred flinched in shock, a look of terror filling his normally cold, emotionless gaze.

"You wouldn't dare…" Manfred said in a shaky voice, crossing his arms tightly against his chest as he broke out into a cold sweat.

"What? It's not _that_ embarrassing…" Blaise snickered. "Once when you, Gant, and I were 12, we were at slumber party at Gant's house when Gant wanted to put on a scary movie-"

"I yield! I yield! Fine! I will take a vacation, but what do you expect me to do with-"

At that moment, Manfred was interrupted by Franziska barging into the office and running over to him, an impatient frown formed on the young girl's face as she stared up at her father with big grey eyes.

"Papa, what's taking you so long? You said that you'd be in here for just five minutes and then we'd go down to the Precinct to pick up that autopsy report; but according to my watch, which operates perfectly, you've been in here for ten." The young girl pouted, earning her a fierce glare from her father- a glare that often signified a rather shocking outcome when they returned home.

Manfred snapped his fingers, causing Franziska's posture to straighten and her eyes to widen. "Foolish child! Can't you see that I'm currently talking with Chief Prosecutor Debeste?" Manfred gruffly stated, prompting his daughter to shift her gaze over to Blaise, who gave her a smile and a wave.

"Sorry for upsetting you, little von Karma. I was talking with your pops and I lost track of time, y'see."

"It's okay, Unky Boo Boo!" Franziska chirped as she ran over to Blaise and jumped on his lap, much to Manfred's disdain.

"Franziska von Karma, this is hardly appropriate! Get off of Chief Prosecutor Debeste's lap this instant!" Manfred ordered with a snap of his fingers.

"Y'know von Karma, you don't have to treat me like I'm some sort of stranger." Blaise whimpered as he started to cry. "I'm not bothered in the slightest that your lovely daughter decided to sit on my lap, y'see. So little von Karma, how's your day been going? Enjoying seeing your pop's daily grind?" Blaise cheerfully asked as he ruffled Franziska's hair.

"It's been a very productive learning session for me, Unky Boo Boo! I saw how Papa plans investigations, how he comes up with what information he wants decisive witnesses to leave out of their testimonies, and how he yelled at one detective so badly that he made the fool cry! With this knowledge, I'm going to be a perfect prosecutor just like Papa and get every fool that crosses my path a guilty verdict, no matter what!" Franziska cheerfully proclaimed with her hands on her hips.

"I'm sure you will, little von Karma. I'm sure you will…" Blaise chuckled.

"Wanna hear about the rest of my week, Unky Boo Boo? Well, on Monday, Miles Edgeworth foolishly chose to sleep in a whole minute later than normal!" Franziska proclaimed as if it was the end of the world.

"An entire minute!?" Blaise asked with fake shock in his voice. "So what'd you do about it?"

"Well, when I saw this atrocity, I marched right into his bedroom and yelled 'Wake up, you foolishly foolish fool!' as loud as I could in his ear. You should have seen it, Unky Boo Boo! Miles Edgeworth screamed like a little girl as he sprung out of his bed, allowing me to…" Franziska cracked her riding crop. "Whip his back several times with my trusty riding crop as I chased him out into the hall!"

"My, my. That's quite a story. So, did anything else happen?" Blaise asked.

"Hmm…" Franziska taped her chin in contemplation.

Manfred snapped his fingers, returning his daughter and the Chief Prosecutor's attention to him. "As much as I love to hear small talk, I would very much like to return to the topic at hand."

"Whatever you say, von Karma. It's your world; we just live in it… Anyways, if you're worried about what to do with Miles and Franziska, then why don't you three take a trip down to the Ocean? Y'see, I have a nice beach house down there that I'd be more than happy to let the three of you use."

"Thanks, but no thanks, sir. If I were to take a vacation, the last place that I'd want to go is a beach." Manfred coldly stated.

"Papa, Unky Boo Boo just gave you a suggestion! Therefore, you must heed it!" Franziska objected.

"Exactly Franziska, it was just that- a suggestion. Therefore, I am not obligated to comply with it."

"But Papa, haven't you always told me and Miles Edgeworth that the only two people who can tell a von Karma what to do are the Chief Prosecutor and Santa?

Manfred flinched, shocked at having his own perfect advice backfire on him in such a fashion. "Yes, but-"

"No 'buts', Papa! You've also told us time and time again of how a von Karma must be a perfect model of civility by having a perfectly clean legal record. So, since laws are rules, and rules are things that people tell us what to do, then by that logic, we have no choice but to go to Unky Boo Boo's beach house or risk the integrity of the von Karma name!"

"Well, Franziska, while your points can be seen as valid, your worries about us compromising the family name by declining Chief Prosecutor Debeste are unwarranted. For you see, we can break any rules that we see as foolish with proper suppression and deceit."

"But Papa! This is Unky Boo Boo we're talking about!" Franziska yelled as she gestured to Blaise, who couldn't help but snicker at how the dreaded Manfred von Karma was being outmatched by a nine year-old girl. "The man who you always complain about being able to create his own truths! With that kind of power at his disposal, any kind of deceit on our part would be pointless!"

"She's right, y'know. So von Karma, are you going to take me up on my offer?" Blaise asked.

"Fine." Manfred grumbled through gritted teeth.

"Good, good. Well, here's a key and the deed to the house." Blaise said as he handed Manfred an envelope and a sheet of paper. "And knowing you, you probably don't own any beach furniture, so feel free to use the chairs in the house's garage. Anyways, I said all that I needed to say, so you're both free to go. Have fun with that autopsy report, little von Karma!"

"I will, Unky Boo Boo!" Franziska cheerfully replied as she scurried out of the office as Manfred, with slumped shoulders and clenched fists, slowly followed his daughter while mumbling something under his breath.

"And Manfred…"

Manfred stopped and slowly turned his head to look Blaise in the eye, shooting the Chief Prosecutor a scowl that could kill. "What?"

"Have fun!" Blaise sneered.

And with one final huff, Manfred stormed out of the office, making sure to loudly slam the door behind him. After waiting a few seconds to make sure that his 'perfect' subordinate was out of hearing range, Blaise pulled out his cellphone and dialed a number; and after waiting a few seconds, the Chief Prosecutor was greeted to an all-too familiar "Hey, Blaisie!

"Hey Damon." Blaise replied.

"So why are you calling! Oh! Are you scheduling an impromptu swimming session! Hmm… As tempting as that is, I have a lot of paperwork at the moment, so could we schedule it for this evening?"

"It's not that. Y'know the plan that I told you about this morning regarding Manfred?"

"The one where you get Karmamel to go down to your beach house tomorrow?"

"The very same. Y'see, it worked like a charm and Manfred's going to be spending the whole day at the Ocean." A large grin spread across Blaise's face. "So y'know what you've got to do…"

* * *

 **A/N:** When I was first doing research on the "Ace Attorney' cast's ages a while back and I saw that Manfred, Damon, and Blaise were all the exact same age, I couldn't help but imagine them being childhood friends, much like how Phoenix, Larry, and Edgeworth are; a thought that was further enforced by the fact that both trios share the same color scheme in regards to their outfits- Phoenix and Manfred with blue, Larry and Gant with orange, and Edgeworth and Blaise with red.

As for backstories regarding their childhoods, I don't want to get too into it due to the fact that I'll probably cover that in a future fanfic; but as a basic summary, I imagine a young Manfred, anti-social and friendless, having just immigrated to the U.S. from Germany and going to Kindergarten where none of the other kids wanted to be his friend. His teacher, Ms. Oldbag (whether or not she's the same Oldbag as the one we see in the games will be addressed later in this story), seeing this, paired him up with the two other kids in the class that no one wanted to be friends with: the mischievous rebel rouser Blaise and Gant, who scared the other kids with that infamous death stare of his. Thus, from that moment on, the three of them formed an Ed, Edd n Eddy- esque trio- with Blaise as the twisted leader that the other two were only friends with out of convenience, Manfred who served as the mature, responsible one, and Gant who was the loveable, upbeat goofball- until Manfred decided to study abroad in Germany to become a prosecutor. That's why in this chapter Manfred and Blaise have a rather casual, more emotional interaction than one would normally expect from the two of them.

I know that this scenario is kind of farfetched, but considering how all three of them became some of the most demented villains in the series, them being long-time childhood friends is too good to pass up.


	2. Welcome to the Beach House!

The next day at 1:00 p.m., after a two hour drive, Manfred, Edgeworth, and Franziska, each carrying their receptive suitcase, were standing in front of the locked front door of Blaise's log cabin-exterior beach house. The house itself, while small for one owned by a man with a six figure salary, had the advantage of being in a nice location- far enough away from the main vacation town to give one some quiet, while also being close enough so that one could easily drive there with little effort.

"Miles, Franziska, before we enter that house and begin this foolish day, I must establish some ground rules with you both. Rule number one: this foolish trip is a once-in-a-lifetime event. As such, I do not want to hear any begging from either of you after this insisting on another trip; nor do I ever want either of you to think that it is alright to take vacations. von Karmas never stray from perfection. Rule number two: This is Chief Prosecutor Debeste's beach house, not ours, so you are not to touch anything. Chief Prosecutor Debeste has the memory of an elephant when it comes to grudges and I do not wish to give him any material to work with by the end of this trip. Are these rules clear to you both?"

"Yes, sir." Edgeworth and Franziska politely responded, giving Manfred a bow and a curtsy, respectively.

Manfred unlocked the front door, but left it closed. "Alright, according to the deed, there are exactly three bedrooms; and given that I am the head of our family, it is only fitting that I get the master bedroom." Manfred opened the door. "So with that in mi…" Manfred stopped midsentence as his eyes widened to the size of saucers and his jaw dropped upon seeing what the interior of Blaise's beach house looked like.

Like Blaise's office, the place was decorated to look like some biker villain's evil lair, complete with pitch-black walls, a bright red leather sofa across from a 40 inch television, several vintage leather biker jackets in glass cases, and even a motorcycle nailed to one of the walls. Though unlike his office, Blaise apparently desired to make his beach house look like some kind of hunting lodge, if the cabin-like exterior wasn't a big enough hint, with the inclusion of a bearskin rug by the entrance way, a wide variety of guns, ranging from muskets to bayonets to machine guns, and two heads mounted above the mantel of a fireplace on the right side of the room which Manfred immediately recognized as Detective Rip Lacer and the summer intern from last year who accidentally gave Blaise a blueberry muffin instead of one that was chocolate chip.

But perhaps the most disturbing part of the house's interior was, hanging on the far side of the room for all to see, a five feet wide by six feet tall portrait of Blaise in his birthday suit, laying in a seductive pose, a huge toothy grin on his face, on the very same bearskin rug in the entranceway, with his manhood greatly… exaggerated, to say the least. What kind of sick, perverted, egotistical man would have such a disturbing painting so prominently displayed in their home? Oh right, this was Blaise's house.

Suddenly, Manfred was snapped out of his shocked state by Edgeworth tapping him on the shoulder. "Mr. von Karma, I don't mean to be rude, but can you please move aside so that Franziska and I can enter?"

Without saying anything, the still-wide eyed veteran prosecutor took a step to his right, but yet his gaze remained fixed on the abomination of a painting, much like how one can't look away from a horrible car crash, allowing his adopted son to enter.

"Thank you, si-" Upon entering the house, Edgeworth stopped dead in his tracks at seeing the risqué portrait of Blaise. "WHAT IS THAT THING!?" Edgeworth screamed, dropping his suitcase in order to shield his face with his hands; but no matter how hard Edgeworth tried to forget what he saw, the disturbing image was forever seared into his mind.

"What a foolish question, Miles! You and I both know what that… abomination is!" Manfred yelled, gesturing to the portrait. "For if we didn't, it wouldn't have given us mental trauma that can only be healed with intensive therapy! I swear, why didn't Chief Prosecutor Debeste warn me about that hideous thing when he knew that I was bringing-"

"Miles Edgeworth, Stop foolishly blocking the door! I want to come in!" Franziska lashed Edgeworth with her riding crop as she squeezed her way through the door, only to have the protective hand of her 'little' brother block her vision in order to shield her young, impressionable mind from the same fate that he and her father had suffered. "Quit it, Little Brother! I can't see!"

"Trust me, Franziska. I'm only doing this because I care about you!" Edgeworth pleaded, struggling to keep his hand over his adoptive sister's eyes as she tried to free herself by wriggling her head.

Unfortunately for Edgeworth, Franziska didn't see his actions as such and, with a lash from her ridding crop, removed her 'little' brother's hand from her face, allowing her to see the traumatizing portrait. Though contrary to her father and adopted brother, Franziska merely cocked her head in confusion.

"Why does Unky Boo Boo have a stick of salami in-between his legs in that portrait?"

"Well, Franziska… He… He…" Manfred sputtered, breaking out in a cold sweat as he gripped his right arm.

Manfred von Karma, the perfect prosecutor who could get through almost anything perfectly, was at a loss for words. But could anyone blame him? Sure, he had been assigned to many absurd cases, especially in LA, but this? Not even a well-prepared man like Manfred would wake up in the morning and think, 'Okay, how should I explain to my nine year-old daughter how my boss/ass of a childhood friend is trying to overcompensate for a part of his body that is… lacking?'

"It's actually quite simple, Franziska." Edgeworth chimed in, a smug grin formed on his face. "Chief Prosecutor Debeste has a great fondness for Italian meats and wished to express said fondness in that portrait for all to see."

"Oh, that makes sense!" Franziska chirped before flashing Edgeworth a look of determination. "Last one upstairs is a foolish defense attorney!" Franziska said before quickly dashing up the nearby stairway, dragging her suitcase behind her, as Edgeworth, with a light chuckle and a shake of his head, walked after her. However, before he could reach the stairway, he was stopped by the sound of his mentor clearing his throat, prompting the teen to turn around.

"Yes, sir?"

"… Thank you, Miles." Manfred mumbled under his breath, the process obviously causing him much discomfort. "That lie you told Franziska… You did… well."

"What can I say? I learned from the best." Edgeworth replied as he continued his way up the stairs.

Manfred proceeded to take his suitcase and go up to the second floor; where no sooner did he reach the top of the stairs, he heard the heated arguing of his two children from a nearby room.

Upon entering the bedroom that his children were arguing, Manfred was greeted to the sight of Edgeworth lying stomach-down on the ground with Franziska sitting square on his back, whipping him with her ridding crop as the maroon-suited teen tried his best to get up, but to no avail.

Manfred cleared his throat to get the attention of his children, but upon seeing that they were completely unaware of his presence, slammed the base of his cane against the room's hardwood floor, instantly altering the prosecutors-in-training to their father/mentor's presence.

"What in Santa's name is going on in here? Both of you get off of the floor this instant! You are von Karmas, not animals!" Manfred snapped.

Wasting no time, Edgeworth and Franziska got back onto their feet and stood military-style before the veteran prosecutor.

Manfred snapped his fingers. "Now, one of you will explain why I heard yelling from this room before seeing you on the ground squabbling like degenerate defense attorneys." The prosecutor ordered as he paced back and forth, giving both youths his infamous cold, empty stare.

Franziska, being the bold child she was, did not hesitate to tell what had happened in the short time that she and her adopted brother were upstairs.

"Well Papa, since I made it up here first, it only makes sense for me to have the first pick. Correct?"

Manfred nodded his head. "Yes."

"So, seeing how this room has a bed, I picked it." Franziska glared over at Edgeworth. "But Miles Edgeworth was being a sore loser and tried to claim this room for himself, so I had no choice but to defend my claim!"

"Hold it!" Manfred bellowed in a deep, gravelly voice. "You say that you chose this room because it has a bed, yet according to the deed, there are supposedly three bedrooms. Thus, excluding the master's bedroom, there should be two beds- one for each of you. So I fail to see what your foolish dispute was about."

"Sir, I was more than willing to let Franziska take this room, but the only other room does not have a bed, or even carpet." Edgeworth chimed in.

"Bah! That is utter nonsense. Show me this unfurnished room of which you speak of, boy." Manfred commanded, which Edgeworth replied to with a nod of his head and led his mentor, with Franziska walking closely behind him, down the hall to a room with a sign labeled 'Little Worthless Idiot's Room' taped to the closed door.

"Here it is, sir." Edgeworth gestured to the door. "Go inside and you'll see why I refuse to sleep in there."

Sure enough Edgeworth was telling the truth, for when Manfred opened the door, he was shocked to see that the room consisted of only a cement floor and a single flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling dimly illuminating the area; the closest thing to a bed present being a few sheets of dirty, grungy newspapers that looked like they were taken from a dumpster.

"As you can see, sir, this room is more suited to be a garage than a bedroom. Therefore, I believe that my reason for desiring the room that Franziska had claimed is perfectly justified."

"In that case, Miles, you will share the furnished bedroom with Franziska." Manfred stated.

"But Papa!" Franziska pouted. "I don't want to share a bed with Miles Edgeworth! He snores really loud and he screams in his sleep!"

"Well excuse me for have night terrors after having my father murdered in the same elevator that I almost died in myself due to oxygen deprivation!" Edgeworth defensively retorted.

"Fine. In that case, one of you can sleep on the couch in the living room."

"I nominate Miles Edgeworth." Franziska stated as she pointed her riding crop at her brother.

Oh, this was not going to happen. Edgeworth may have been a patient adolescent when it came to his younger adoptive sister's behavior- letting her win chess matches so that she wouldn't throw a hissy fit, giving her his slice of cake or pie at family gatherings so that he wouldn't have to deal with her complaining, tolerating her use of that accursed riding crop- but if Franziska thought for even a fraction of a second that he'd spend the night in that living room, where that disturbing painting would watch him sleep in all its phallic glory, then she had another thing coming.

"No." Edgeworth sternly replied with his arms crossed.

"What?" Franziska growled, bending her riding crop in her grip.

"You heard me, Franziska. I said 'no'."

As Franziska raised her arm in preparation to strike her adoptive brother with her trusty riding crop, Edgeworth did the unthinkable: with lightning-quick reflexes, he snatched his adoptive sister's weapon of choice out of her hand.

"Hey! Give me back my riding crop, you foolishly foolish fool!" Franziska screamed as she tried to grab her beloved riding crop from her adopted brother's hand, only for him to use his height to his advantage and hold it above his head.

"And let you whip me without listening to a single word that I have to say? No, I, as well as the rest of society, have been pretty tolerant of your behavior up until this point; but in regards to this dispute, I am putting my foot down and exerting my right as your older brother to justify my sleeping in an actual bed."

"Foolish as always, I see, Miles Edgeworth. It's actually kinda cute that you're under the delusion that _you're_ the older sibling." Franziska scoffed.

"How is that being delusional when I'm actually older than you?"

"Simple." Franziska waggled her finger in a similar manner to that of her father and brother. "I was a part of the von Karma family first, so by definition that makes _me_ the older sibling, _little_ brother."

"Well, if I'm so 'little', then you should have no difficulties in reclaiming your riding crop." Edgeworth wryly retorted.

"Fine…" Without warning, Franziska slugged Edgeworth in the stomach, causing the adolescent to fall to his knees and allowing his sister to simply snatch her beloved riding crop from his weakened grip. "That was too easy, _little_ brother!"

"You… cheated…!" Edgeworth wheezed as he struggled to regain his breath.

Franziska whipped Edgeworth. "I did not, you fool! You challenged me to retrieve my ridding crop and I did just that."

"Did so… you were… supposed to try to… actually grab… it from me."

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did-"

"Enough!" Manfred bellowed with a snap of his fingers. "If you two are not mature enough to come to a civilized conclusion on your own, then the responsibility falls on me. Franziska…" Manfred pointed his cane at his young daughter, prompting her to stick out her tongue at her 'little' brother as a proclamation of victory. "Move your suitcase out of Miles' room and take it down to the living room."

"But Papa, it's not fair! I'm your perfect child! ME! Not that foolishly foolish runt of a foolishly foolish defense attorney! So if anyone deserves to be treated like an animal, it's him!" Franziska pouted as she pointed her riding crop at the still-downed Edgeworth.

"'Not fair?' Bah! Life isn't fair, Franziska! That is an important lesson that you must learn if you wish to become perfect. Do you think that life was fair when Miles' foolish father caused me to suffer my first penalty? Of course not! But did I complain? No, I took it in stride and used it as a learning experience. So stop acting like a foolish child and heed my orders."

"But I'm a child, Papa!" Franziska whined.

"Franziska, this is the last place that I want to be right now, so I will only say this once: Talk back to me again and you will be in for a real shock." Manfred smirked as he pulled out his trusty stun gun. "Do I make myself clear?"

"*gulp* Perfectly." Franziska nervously replied with wide eyes as her little body slightly trembled.

"Good." Manfred returned his stun gun to his pocket. "As much as I despise this trip, I despise wasting time more. With that in mind, we will be going to the beach in exactly 30 minutes from now. Anyone not ready in time will face punishment."

With a nod of her head, Franziska scurried off to get her suitcase, followed by Edgeworth, who had just gotten back on his feet, limping after her.

With his children in line, all Manfred had to do now was take his suitcase to the master bedroom, unpack and properly organize his clothes and hygiene products in the closet and bathroom, respectively, change into his swim trunks, and apply his sunblock- because Manfred von Karma did not deal with the easily-preventable imperfection that is sunburn.

However, Manfred was going to be dealing with his own bedroom issue that day, for when he entered Blaise's room, he was greeted to the sight of a queen-sized bed with bright red satin covers, even more biker memorabilia, and a portrait opposite the bed that consisted of Blaise, once again nude, posed like Michelangelo's _David_ , with the same disturbing enlargement as the other portrait.

"Gah!" Manfred flinched at the sight of this new portrait. _Note to self: After this trip, get revenge on Blaise- strike him down so that he will rue the day that he thought of messing with the von Karma!_ Manfred glanced at the portrait, giving it a scowl as dirty as its content. _But before I plan my retribution, I have to eliminate that portrait without altering the room..._

* * *

Ten minutes later, as Manfred was busy with his own unpacking, Edgeworth had just finished unpacking his suitcase and put on his maroon swim trunks, but before lathering himself with sunscreen, he decided to head downstairs to apologize to Franziska for his behavior earlier. And even though she had started the dispute, as the bigger person- both figuratively and literally- it was his responsibility to apologize for his action.

"Franziska, I-" The adolescent cut himself off upon noticing Franziska's suitcase, which hadn't even been open yet, lying on the couch with its owner nowhere in sight.

Edgeworth carefully scanned the room. "Franziska, where are you? I wish to speak to you about our earlier dispute?" The adolescent asked, receiving no reply other than the sound of opening cabinets in the nearby kitchen.

Upon rounding the corner and entering the small kitchen, which had a red and white tiled floor reminiscent of a 50's burger joint, Edgeworth found Franziska with her head in a cabinet under the sink, mumbling to herself as she haphazardly threw various soaps and cleaners over her shoulder and onto the floor- which was littered with several other various boxes, bottles, and cans- signifying that she had been searching through the other cabinets for something.

"Franziska…" Edgeworth stated, though was completely ignored by his younger sister.

"Fraziska…" Edgeworth sated a bit louder, but was once again ignored.

A scowl of irritation formed on his face, Edgeworth bent down and gently put his hand on Franziska's back, causing her to scream in terror before quickly turning around and lashing him with her riding crop.

"Why…!" Edgeworth snarled, gripping his wounded face in his hand. "Why is it that every time I speak with you, I end up getting lashed with your riding crop?"

"Maybe if you weren't trying to foolishly scare me to death, I wouldn't have to whip you!" Franziska scowled at Edgeworth as she bent her riding crop, obviously still shaken up.

"Well maybe if you were actually paying attention to your surroundings, I wouldn't have had to tap you on the shoulder, thus startling you." Edgeworth responded, earning him another lash.

"Why did you even come in here, Miles Edgeworth? To startle me for your sick satisfaction?"

"As I said, it was never my intention to frighten you. I originally wanted only to apologize for my actions earlier, but now I'm more curious as to why you are rummaging through Chief Prosecutor Debeste's cabinets- especially after your father warned us not to touch anything."

"Well, little brother, I was merely checking to see what kinds of foodstuffs Unky Boo Boo owns so that way I educate him on how he can perfect his diet."

Edgeworth chuckled, a smug grin forming on his face.

"Wipe that foolish grin off your foolishly foolish face, Miles Edgeworth, before I do it for you!" Franziska yelled with a stomp of her foot.

"I'm just saying, Franziska, if you simply want a snack, then don't hesitate to say so. I won't think any less of you."

Franziska lashed Edgeworth with her riding crop, effectively wiping the grin off his face.

"Don't be foolish, Miles Edgeworth! Perfect prodigies like me don't need snacks; though I can't say the same for fools such as you." Franziska boasted as she waggled her finger.

"Good, because it would be very unlikely to find any sort of foodstuffs on account of this being a beach house- a place where Chief Prosecutor Debeste probably doesn't visit for months at a time. Ergo, if he were to store food here, it would probably spoil well before he'd return."

"You don't know that." Franziska pouted with her arms crossed.

Edgeworth tapped his forehead. "Don't I…? Judging from the variety of products scattered about this room, it's safe to assume that you've searched the fridge and every cabinet here. So tell me, Franziska, did you find anything edible?"

"No…" Franziska grumbled.

"As I thought." Edgeworth boasted.

"Hold it!" Franziska shouted, pointing her riding crop at her brother. "I haven't found anything to eat because I haven't checked every last place."

"And where exactly didn't you check?"

Franziska pointed her riding crop upwards at a cabinet a few feet above the sink. "Up there."

"Franziska, if there wasn't any food in the lower cabinets and the refrigerator, then I highly doubt that there will be any in a cupboard nine feet off the ground."

Franziska waggled her finger again, trying ever so hard to be like her father. "Do you have any evidence to support your claim, little brother? So unless we investigate the cabinet, then my search shan't end. Now get up there and open that cabinet!" The young girl ordered with a lash of her riding crop against her 'little' brother's torso.

"First of all, ow." Edgeworth wryly commented. "And second, why me? Why can't you do it?"

"Look at me, Miles Edgeworth…" Franziska said, gesturing to her petite form. "How do you foolishly expect an elegant woman of my height to reach up there?"

"Oh, and I'm Goliath? Newsflash, Franziska, I'm 5'6". So how do you expect me to reach that cabinet without a ladder?"

"The sink." Franziska bluntly replied, pointing her riding crop at the sink. "Climb on top of the sink and check the cupboard for me."

Edgeworth crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "And risk potential injury? I think not. Perhaps _you_ could use the sink as a stepstool."

Franziska crossed her own arms, perfectly mimicking her 'little' brother. "Miles Edgeworth, if I have to climb that sink, then I won't unpack my suitcase."

Edgeworth shrugged. "Fine by me. If you wish to be on the receiving end of your father's stun gun, then who am I to object?"

"You will be when I tell Papa that the reason why I didn't unpack was because you forced me to search the kitchen for food." Franziska smugly retorted.

Edgeworth flinched in shock. "Ludicrous! That was clearly your idea!"

"Objection!" Franziska yelled before waggling her finger. "Miles Edgeworth, have you forgotten the most important rule of Law?"

"Evidence is everything." Edgeworth responded matter-of-factly.

"It seems you aren't completely foolish after all..." Franziska sneered. "So tell me, Miles Edgeworth, what evidence do you have proving that searching the kitchen was my idea?" The young girl asked, pointing her riding crop at her brother.

"And what evidence do you have proving that it was mine?" Edgeworth retorted, fiercely pointing at his sister.

"Take that!" Franziska shouted as she gestured to her outfit.

"Edgeworth cocked his head in confusion. "Your… dress? What does that have to do with the issue at hand?"

Franziska smirked at the clueless look on her brother's face. "Once a fool, always a fool... Did you forget how I discovered that you were in this room?"

"Yes, you weren't listening to me, so I…" Edgeworth flinched, his eyes bugging out of his head. "N-Nghooo!"

Franziska waggled her finger as she seized this perfect opportunity to go on the offensive. "That's right, Miles Edgeworth, you placed _your_ hand on _my_ back. With that in mind, if Papa were to run a fingerprint test on my dress, he would be very interested to know why your entire handprint was on my back."

"Nggghhh!" Edgeworth grunted through clenched teeth, his fist trembling and clenched. "F-Fine… I'll check the cabinet."

"Good boy!" Franziska chirped. "Now up you go!"

Bending to his sister's will, Edgeworth climbed up on top of the sink, grumbling to himself, and, being careful to maintain his balance, opened the cupboard. However, instead of finding foodstuffs or cleaning products, Edgeworth saw that the cabinet was stuffed full of metal kitchen implements- so stuffed that upon opening the cabinet, all of the heavy metal utensils, which included a bread maker, a milkshake mixer, and a snow cone machine, poured out of the cabinet and onto Edgeworth, sending the adolescent falling to the ground with an embarrassingly feminine scream and a loud crashing sound.

Walking up to her little brother, who was trapped under the large pile of kitchen implements and was struggling to get up, Franziska only added to his plain by lashing his face with her riding crop.

"Miles Edgeworth! What was that foolishly foolish act of tomfoolery? Are you trying to get us in trouble?!"

With a red lash mark on his face, Edgeworth glowered at his sister with a fierce scowl. "Yes, Franziska, I'm fine! Thank you for taking concern for your poor brother!"

Franziska shot Edgeworth a scowl in return. "What are you talking about, Miles Edgeworth? I was reprimanding you, not trying to take care of you!"

"I was being sarcastic!" Edgeworth yelled.

Franziska blushed upon realizing her folly. "Oh…"

"Now help me get out of this pile before-"

"What was that noise!?" Manfred yelled as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Your father gets here." Edgeworth said in a dull, emotionless voice.

Manfred rushed into the room. "Edgeworth, Franziska! I heard a loud noise and…" The veteran prosecutor cut himself off as he noticed his adopted son's current situation. "Miles, why are you under a large mound of kitchen appliances?" Manfred calmly asked, crossing his arms and tapping a finger against his bicep.

"Hello, sir…" Edgeworth nervously responded. "Before I explain it to you, would you mind helping me out of this pile? I have good reason to believe that I cut my armpit and wish to disinfect it."

Manfred slapped his forehead and shook his head. "On second thought, don't tell me. Save it for when we get home so that I can better punish you. Franziska, help your brother and then unpack your suitcase. Don't think that I haven't noticed that it's still unopened. Franziska, like I said before, we may be on vacation, but that does not excuse you to become sloppy. Do I make myself clear?"

Franziska trembled as her eyes filled with fear. "Y-Yes, Papa."

As Franziska struggled to pull Edgeworth out from the pile of kitchen utensils, Manfred made his way back to the master bedroom, sighing to himself as he wondered how this trip could get any worse. Though unbeknownst to the veteran prosecutor, this was only the beginning...


	3. No Fun in the Sun

**A/N:** Leave it to life to get in the way when you feel the ideas flowing, yet leave you alone when nothing's coming to you. Anyways, here are the ages of the characters introduced in this chapter…

 **Klavier: 6**

 **Ema: 7**

 **Gant: 57**

 **Badd: 49**

 **Kristoph: 15**

With that, I hope you guys enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

The sun was shining bright in a cloudless sky, basking the beach in a warm, golden light; though contrary to what one would think, the sand was not too hot on account of a light breeze, yet not too cold either. The same could be said for water, which was also at a decent temperature, in addition to being choppy enough to feel entertained, yet not too rough as to get repeatedly toppled over by monster waves. Children frolicked about, doggedly chasing down the poor ice-cream vendors that were making their rounds throughout the beach like starving lions pursuing an antelope on the Serengeti.

Yep, it was a perfect day to have fun in the sun… unless you were part of the von Karma family, who chose to stay seated in Blaise's leather beach chairs underneath his watermelon-print beach umbrella.

"Foolish Blaise and his foolish 99 Cent Store umbrella… Did this to me on purpose…" Manfred grumbled to himself.

"S-Sir…" Edgeworth, who was wearing a maroon bathing suit, said through chattering teeth, shivering as he covered himself with a _Dukes of Hazard_ beach towel for warmth. "W-W-We've been sitting underneath this umbrella for thi-thi-thirty minutes now. C-C-Can I please go out on the b-b-be- OW!" The adolescent yelped as he felt the riding crop of his irritated adoptive sister strike his bare arm.

Franziska, who was wearing a bluish-grey one-piece swimsuit and a large white beach hat, looked up from the legal book she was reading and shot her 'little' brother a death glare.

"Miles Edgeworth, you've been complaining since we got here! How am I supposed to become a prosecutor if you keep foolishly interrupting my study time with your foolish whining?" Franziska cast her gaze at her father, who was wearing a black swim suit and a thick layer of sunblock that made his complexion look even paler than normal. "Papa, make Miles Edgeworth stop whining!"

"Miles, what purpose do you need to go out on the beach? To tire yourself out with unnecessary exercise and throw off your perfect sleep schedule? I think not. You don't see Franziska complaining now, do you?"

"T-T-That's because she's wearing a one-piece; p-p-plus, her back's to the wind!" Edgeworth objected. "A-A-All I'm asking is that you let m-me take a walk."

Manfred let out a sigh and crossed his arms. "Fine. If it will keep you quiet, you can take a walk. But I want you back here in 30 minutes, on the dot; and if you even so much as _think_ of feeling drowsy tomorrow, there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear, boy?"

Edgeworth nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Without wasting any time, Edgeworth got up from his chair and left the umbrella, exposing himself to the warmth of the sun; but before he could commence his stroll, he heard a playful "Don't let a sea monster eat you!" from Franziska.

"Don't be ridiculous, Franziska." Edgeworth responded as he turned to face his younger sister, who was wearing a smug grin on her face. "Sea monster are merely myths- like Bigfoot, crop circles, or a defense attorney capable of besting your father."

"Amen to that." Manfred chimed in.

"But Miles Edgeworth, sea monster _are_ real."

"No they aren't, Franziska, and we both know this. You're only starting an argument for the sake of starting an argument."

"If sea monsters aren't real, then show me some evidence supporting that foolish theory of yours."

"After you show me evidence of your own supporting their existence. Perhaps some eyewitnesses; permitting you can find any…" Edgeworth sneered with a shrug of his shoulders.

Franziska waggled her finger. "A lack of witnesses would only serve to enhance my argument, Miles Edgeworth."

"How so?"

"Simple. Any eyewitnesses would have been eaten before they could report their findings."

"This is getting ridiculous! I'm not going to stand here a second longer and perpetuate this pointless debate." Edgeworth stated with a tone of mild annoyance before walking away from the umbrella.

"Don't come crying to me when you're being digested in a sea monster's stomach! Oh right, you won't because you were eaten!" Franziska called out in an attempt to get the last word. "So how'd I do, Papa? Are my debating skills up to snuff?" The young girl asked as she looked at her father with glimmer of hope in her eyes, wanting nothing more than to receive his approval for once in her life.

"That was mediocre at best, Franziska. If you had even the slightest mastery of my teachings, you'd know that to before break your opponent, you must first break their spirit- their hopes. That is why you mustn't even let them retort your first statement; for how can a fool stand against a von Karma's perfect argument if they haven't even a leg to stand on?" Manfred smirked at his daughter, who stared at him with a hurt look in her eyes.

"But Papa, I-"

Manfred snapped his fingers. "I will hear no excuses, girl! Now return to your reading. One cannot become a perfect prosecutor without a perfect understanding of Law; and if your grasp of your current study material is as shoddy as the argument that I just witnessed, then you need all the knowledge you can get. So you are not to even look up from that book unless I say so. Understood?"

Franziska hung her head in shame as she returned to her book. "Yes, Papa…"

* * *

Five minutes later, Franziska was still reading her book as Manfred looked out at the ocean, watching the waves go in and out. Normally, Manfred would be the first to voice how scenery is a waste of time and how he was above it, but there was something about these waves that was just so… hypnotic. The way that they'd crash, come in, and then return back to sea in a perfect cycle was something that a perfectionist prosecutor could appreciate, as shown by his eyes becoming heavy.

Manfred shook his head, snapping himself awake. _No. This isn't the time or place to sleep._ The veteran prosecutor started to feel his eyes getting heavy again. _Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to rest my eyes for a few minutes…_ Manfred pinched himself. _What am I thinking? This is a public beach. Sleeping in such a place is something only a lesser being would consider- someone like Gregory Edgeworth. I…_ Manfred let out a yawn. _N-No… I will not give into these primal urges. I'm Manfred von Karma, the perfect prosecutor. I will not… will not..._

Despite his valiant efforts, Manfred was lulled into a deep sleep, completely unaware of a small boy standing over him and flashing him a mischievous grin.

* * *

Manfred was savoring this nap as he felt his body loosen and his stress start to melt away; but alas, all good things must come to an end, and for Manfred that end came in the form of something cold and sticky hitting him square in the chest.

"What in the Sam Hill…!" Manfred yelled as he quickly jerked up, growling at the sight of the offending item that awoke him- an ice-cream snack on a stick in the shape of Signal Yellow's head- falling in his lap with a splat.

Picking up the ice-cream by its stick, Manfred glared daggers into the gumball eyes of the snack based on a beloved children's television hero. "Who…?" The veteran prosecutor growled.

"Heh-heh-heh! Looks like you aren't dead after all, eh Grandpa?" A young voice sneered.

Manfred cast his gaze upwards, where he saw a small young boy with short blond hair, wearing a reddish-purple bathing suit and black sunglasses, leaning forward with his hands on his hips as he flashed the veteran prosecutor a smirk.

"Do you have any idea to whom you are talking to, _boy_?" Manfred sternly asked as he crossed his arms.

"Based on what I see, I'd say Gower the Grumpy Ghost." The boy sneered.

"I am the man who has made criminals and defense attorneys alike weep tears of pure fear; I am the man who has singlehandedly brought justice and order to the greater Los Angeles area;" Manfred got up out of his chair and started to walk over to the boy. "I'm the perfect prosecutor, Manfred von Karm-aaagh!" The veteran prosecutor screamed as he tripped over the exposed tip of a shovel that was buried right in front of his chair, causing him to fall face-first in a large pile of sand.

Manfred slowly looked up, growling as he shot the boy a death glare. "Look like you're Prosecutor Sandybutt now! Smell you later, Sandybutt!" The boy sneered, giving Manfred a raspberry before running off laughing."

Manfred quickly picked himself off the ground, trying to brush the sand off his torso, but to no avail. "No! The sunblock! It's working against me…! No matter, I can handle this later. First, I must hunt down that boy like the dog he is, for no one shames a von Karma and lives to tell about it!" Manfred picked up his cane and proceeded to chase after the boy.

As this was happening, Franziska pretended that she didn't notice, afraid to stop reading her book out of fear of how her father would react.

* * *

For the next five or so minutes, Manfred chased after the brat who dared to wrong him, even managing to catch up to him. Manfred may have normally been restricted by his cane, but when angry or excited, the perfect prosecutor could overpower his physical limitations; running surprisingly fast as he held his cane at his side.

"Try and run, you'll never win! You'll never catch me 'cause I'm Klavier Gavin!" The boy sneered, turning his head so he could give Manfred another raspberry.

"We'll see about that, boy!" Manfred yelled as he tossed his cane like a spear, managing to hit Klavier in the back and causing him to fall to the ground with a yelp like a wounded buffalo.

Seeing his enemy downed, a smirk spread across Manfred's face as he picked up his cane and slowly approached Klavier, who tried to crawl away from the demented man whom he pushed too far.

"End of the line, boy!" Manfred wryly stated as he raised his cane above his head, preparing to literally knock some sense into this ruffian. "Any last words?"

Klavier burst into tears as he put his hands over his face. "Don't hit me in the face! Mommy says I'm real handsome!"

"But not as handsome as me." Manfred sneered as he swung his cane downward at the crying boy; but before he could strike Klavier, his cane was stopped midair by someone grabbing the end of it.

Manfred turned his head to see what fool would have the gall to get in the way of his vengeance. "Who dares interrupt-" Manfred stopped himself upon seeing that this new thorn in his side was a well-endowed woman with long, straight jet-black hair in a black two-piece swimsuit who was wearing a bit too much make-up and stood a full head taller than the veteran prosecutor. "Look, ma'am, despite my air of sophistication and prestige, as a prosecutor and a man above animal urges, I refuse to pay for any lewd services you may wish to provide."

The woman let go of Manfred's cane to slap his cheek. "Ew! Like I'd ever consider doing _that_ with a guy who could be my granddad!"

Manfred flinched. "G-Granddad!? How old do you think I am?!"

"Old enough to know not to pick on little sweet, innocent boys!" The woman angrily retorted, pointing at Klavier, who was still on the ground sniffling and wiping tears out of his eyes.

"Oh, I can assure you that boy is no saint. He threw an ice-cream at me, tripped me with a shovel, _and_ called me sandybutt!" Manfred objected as Klavier got up and ran behind the woman's legs for protection.

"He's just a kid; he doesn't know any better. That doesn't give you the right to try to beat him with a cane, you big bully!" The woman stated with her hands on her hips.

"Yeah!" Another woman- one who was only half Manfred's height and a little pudgier, though equally as endowed as the other one, with curly blond hair- stated as she stormed over to the seasoned prosecutor. "Like, what gives you the right to beat up kids?"

Manfred looked around the area, noticing that besides the two women who were currently confronting him, there was a plethora of attractive women trotting around.

"Is Hugh Heffner here or something?" Manfred asked, earning him another slap from the first woman.

"No! We're models preparing to compete in the Miss Beach Babe pageant and _you_ barged into our practice area."

"Sorry, ladies, just turn over the boy to me and we'll get out of your hair."

"P-Pwease don't make me go wiff the scawy, scawy man, Ms. Pretty Lady! He wants to hurt me real bad!" Klavier whimpered, his lower lip quivering.

"Bah! Quit being overdramatic and take your punishment like a man, boy!" Manfred huffed as he put a firm hand on Klavier's shoulder, but was immediately pushed off by the model.

"Well, if you're such a man, then why don't you pick on someone your own size!?" The model stated, stiffening her posture to emphasize the height advantage that she held over Manfred.

A smirk spread across Manfred's face. "Well, if we're talking about brain size, then you'd have to rally every airheaded, scatterbrained model here to have even a tenth of my intellect. I've seen foolish defense attorneys with more-"

Not wanting to take any more of Manfred's attitude, the model pulled out a bottle of mace and sprayed the veteran prosecutor right in his eyes, causing him to scream out in pain.

"Uuaaaaaaaargh! My eyes! My perfect eyes!" Manfred bellowed at the top of his lungs, rubbing his eyes as he fell to his knees before getting kicked in the chest by the second model, knocking him on his back.

The shorter girl then proceeded to repeatedly stomp on Manfred's chest. "C'mon, girls! Let's show this guy how, like, 'scatterbrained' we really are!" The model called out, quickly being joined by about ten other girls who started to stomp on Manfred's chest and kick his shoulders.

The taller model got down on her knees and wiped the tears off Klavier's reddened cheeks. "Don't worry, little guy. That big ol' meanie won't be hurting you anytime soon." The woman softly told the young lad with a smile on her face, gesturing over to Manfred who was being abused, both physically and emotionally, by the hoard of models.

"Th-Thanks, Ms. Pretty Lady." Klavier sniffled. "One day, when I get big and famous, I'll repay you for this! Promise!" Klavier jovially proclaimed.

The model chuckled as she ruffled Klavier's hair. "And I bet you will, shug. You know, I can't put my finger on it, but I've got a good feeling about you… Here's my card. If you ever decide to enter the music biz when you grow up, give me a call." The model sweetly said as she handed Klavier a business card; causing the young boy's eyes to widen as if he was handed gold.

"Thanks, Ms…" Klavier read the card to learn the woman's name. "Tinas!"

"You don't have to be so formal with me, shug. Just call me Sonja. And don't mention it, from my experience in both the modeling and music industries, guys like you skyrocket in their prime!"

"You sure?" Klavier asked as a smile formed on his face.

"100%." Sonja got back on her feet, but not before giving Klavier a kiss on the cheek. "See ya 'round, shug." The woman waved to him before gracefully walking off.

* * *

Back at the von Karmas' umbrella, Franziska was still reading and was actually starting to get into a grove- the kind of grove where you feel like you're actually starting to get the material and each page feels shorter than the last. But alas, like her father before her, Franziska was interrupted by her own pest-child; but unlike the mischievous boy who pranked her father, Franziska's came in the form of a girl with long brown hair with a little topknot, wearing a moss-green one-piece bathing suit and a pair of pink-tinted glasses that were way too big for her face, who was excitedly breathing over her.

"Hiya! My name's Ema Skye, future forensics scientist! What's yours?" The young girl jovially asked, earning her an exasperated huff from the blue-haired girl.

"None of your business." Franziska curtly replied, not even bothering to look up from her book. This foolish girl wasn't worth potential punishment from her father.

Being the persistent sort, Ema paid no regard to Franziska, who anyone could tell couldn't be less concerned with whatever anyone had to say.

"This beach has such interesting sand composition. You see, the white sand here is due to the presence of coral; yet my science teacher says that there aren't any major sources of coral in the area. But the proof's in the pudding, or rather in the sand! Oh, I have to write that one down! It'll make me a big hit at the talent show next week!"

"If by 'big hit' you mean that people will want to throw stuff at you and push you off the stage, then you're correct." Franziska wryly commented, which flew right over Ema's head.

"Oh, speaking of pushing, did you know that there's an average of about 12 hundred beached marine mammals each year? Or that contrary to common belief, beached whales aren't usually blown up, but are rather buried ten feet under the beach it was found on? So for all we know, we could be right above a dead whale! Isn't that exciting!?" Ema asked with a surprisingly large grin for a girl talking about dead whale disposal.

"And you foolishly felt the foolish need to tell me such a foolish fact why?"

"Well, my sister told me that the best way to make new friends is to talk about things that interest you until you find someone that agrees."

"Then why don't you do that with other people?"

Ema lowered her head in embarrassment. "I did, but all the other kids I found either ran away or laughed and called me mean names like 'science freak' or 'birdy nerdy' or 'big butt'! I can understand the first two, but 'big butt'!? I don't have a big butt! Do I..?" Ema nervously asked as she turned her back to Franziska. "Do I have a big butt? Be honest! I can't fix issues that I have no knowledge of!"

"I do not care about your foolish issue nor do I want to care." Franziska growled. "Now please leave. I can't study to be a perfect prosecutor like my papa with you foolishly pestering me."

Ema perked up, her eyes lit with excitement. "You want to be a prosecutor? Well, what a coincidence: my sister's in college studying to be one!"

"Oh, so now they're letting just any fool who can yell 'Objection!' become a prosecutor?"

Ema clenched her fists. "Hey! Don't underestimate Lana! Her professors say that she has what it takes to be the next Manfred von Karma."

Franziska put down her book as she broke out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"Hey! What's so funny!?" Ema pouted.

"Like your foolish sister can hold a candle to my papa's glorious, perfect splendor! That's rich!" Franziska wailed with laughter as she pounded the arm of her chair. "She probably couldn't fold Papa's socks right, let alone be his equal in court!"

However, instead of being hurt by Franziska's remarks, an idea popped into Ema's head, prompting her to put her hand on Franziska's shoulder.

"Say, pal, would you-"

"Like me to tear of your hand if you don't get it off my shoulder in the next three seconds?" Franziska wryly commenting, prompting Ema nervously gulp before quickly retracting her hand.

"As I was saying, how'd you like to help me build a really cool sandcastle?" Ema asked with an excited grin.

"And why would I want to do that?" Franziska curtly responded before returning to her book.

"Well, while we're building the sandcastle, you could teach me your dad's courtroom tricks. That way, I can help Lana get her homework done faster so she can spend more time with me!" Ema cheerfully explained.

"One, Papa's perfect techniques aren't 'tricks'. Second, as I've asked previously, why would I want to do that?"

"You scratch my back, and I scratch yours…" Ema leaned close to Franziska. "You teach me your dad's techniques that he uses in court, and I'll teach you how to make the meanest potato clock this side of the Mississippi! So, whaddya say?" The young girl whispered as if she was selling national secrets.

Franziska used her tiding crop to slowly push Ema's face out of her personal space before glaring daggers at the aspiring scientist.

"Sure! My papa may zap me with a stun gun if I cease my daily reading; but there's nothing in the world that I'd want to do more than foolishly work on some foolish sandcastle while foolishly revealing von Karma family secrets to a foolishly foolish girl in exchange for foolish information on how to build a foolishly foolish toy for foolish children who have nothing better to do than to act like fools!" Franziska replied in an overly-sweet, overly-sarcastic tone that could give even her adopted brother a run for his money.

But unfortunately for Franziska, sarcasm was not a part of young Ema Skye's dictionary- a lesson she learned the hard way when the science-obsessed girl grabbed her arm and dragged her off kicking and screaming.

* * *

15 minutes later, after much yelling, pouting, and several failed escape attempts on Franziska's part, she and Ema had finally managed to complete a pretty decent sandcastle- complete with four spiraling towers, windows, and a little moat.

"We did it!" Ema triumphantly proclaimed with her hands on her hips. "Thanks for helping me out!"

"Don't mention it. Really, don't. So can I leave now?" Franziska disinterestedly asked.

However, before Ema could respond, she gasped in horror as Klavier, who was on all fours, plowed through her and Franziska's sandcastle with a toy bulldozer.

"Breaker! Breaker! Just knocked down that grungy old building! Returning to base for next job! Over and out! Vroooom!" Klavier said as he accidently rolled his bulldozer into Ema causing her to yelp in pain. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

"If you're going to be sorry for something, then be sorry about how you knocked down our sandcastle, you big jerk!" Ema fumed.

Klavier shrugged his shoulders. "What? It had to come down. It was filled with mold and asbestos."

Ema stomped her foot as she fought to hold back the tears welling up in her eyes. "No it wasn't! It was filled to the brim with joy and science before you came along and knocked it down you… you… anthropologist!"

A grin spread across Klavier's face as he put his arm around Ema's shoulder. "How's about I help you calm down with a nice juice box. My family's got a cooler full of them back at our umbrella."

Ema forcefully pushed Klavier off of her. "No! I don't want any of your crummy juice!"

"Are you sure? We've got pink lemonade…" Klavier amorously stated as if he was offering the young girl a sip of the ambrosia of legends; which Ema responded by throwing a wad of sand in the young boy's face. "Oh well, your loss…"

Klavier, being the natural ladies' man that he was, quickly redirected his attention to Franziska.

"Hey gorgeous, how'd you like-" Klavier was cut off by Franziska's riding crop hitting him in the face, causing him to scream out in pain. "Ow! What'd you do that for!?"

"You were acting like a fool. A woman of my social standing ever allowing herself to be romanced by a fool such as yourself? You had it coming." Franziska sneered as she brandished her trusty riding crop.

"You could of just said 'no'! You didn't have to whip my face!" Klavier wailed.

"Serves you right! Now I'm going to have to spend even more time with this foolish girl who keeps foolishly insisting that Pluto is a planet!"

"Pluto's a trans-Neptunian object! It's like saying that a whale's not a mammal because it lives in the ocean!" Ema objected.

"But thanks to you, I'm now ugly! See!?" Klavier yelled, gesturing to the freshly-formed red mark on his cheek.

"Trust me, that ship sailed long before I ever met you." Franziska sneered.

"You… YOU…!" Klavier fumed, his becoming red like a ripe tomatoe, as he struggled to think of a good comeback. "Let's see how smug you are after my big brother's done with you! He's 15 and will be very angry to know what you did to me."

"Fine. Bring him here. I'll just whip him just like every fool who dares to cross me." Franziska boasted, puffing out her chest in pride as Klavier stormed off.

* * *

Meanwhile, Manfred was neck-deep in the ocean- not because he wanted to, but because he needed to find a way to both clean the sand off of him and hide the bruises that he obtained from his little scuffle with the models.

"Foolish models, ganging up on an upstanding guardian of the law such as myself… I swear, they will rue the day they chose to mess with me…" Manfred grumbled to himself as he wadded around in the water; which abruptly ended when his foot kicked something hard and smooth.

"Ah!" Manfred yelled, grabbing his wounded foot. "Di-Did I just hit a shark?" The nervous prosecutor asked as he nervously scanned the area for signs of a giant dorsal fin piercing the water's surface.

But instead of seeing a dorsal fin, something much worse rose before Manfred in the form of a smiling Damon Gant.

"Hiya, Karmamel! Jolly good to see you relaxing for a change and get some swimming in!"

 _On second thought, maybe a shark wouldn't be so bad. At least I'd die a quick and painless death._ "Gant, how many times must I tell you that my name is 'Manfred', not 'Karmamel'?" Manfred sternly asked.

Gant started laughing and clapping his hands. "Ha! Same ol' Manny! I swear, one of these days I'll get you to let me call you Karmamel."

"Yes, but today isn't that day." Manfred said, crossing his arms and inadvertently revealing some of his bruises from earlier.

"Manny, you're covered in bruises! What happened!?"

"I was attacked by band of defense attorneys."

Gant cocked his head in confusion. "Killer defense attorneys? I've been on this beach all day and haven't heard of any incidences involving violent defense attorneys; though if it's any consolation, I did hear something about an old guy getting beat up by some supermodels."

"That information is completely unrelated to the situation at hand. You see, I was sitting under my umbrella, minding my own business, when suddenly this little hellbrat comes out of nowhere and throws an ice-cream at me. Not one to tolerate being disrespected, I got up to confront the boy, only to find that he had partially buried a shovel in front of my seat, causing me to trip and fall face-first into a mound of sand. So, having been pushed to my limit, I chased after the boy at full-speed…"

Gant chuckled. "Yup, I can see that happening. You've never been one to spare a child the rod when they dare defy you. Reminds me of that one Christmas two years back when Santa visited the Precinct and you literally threw the girl in front of you off to the side and into the buffet table!" Gant laughed while clapping his hands before flashing Manfred a stern look. "So Manny, did you kill the boy?"

"No, as much as I wanted to, he unfortunately escaped me."

Gant gave Manfred one of his infamous thousand-yard stares for what felt like an eternity before grinning once more.

"Good to hear! Not that I'd have charges pressed on you if you did, considering our history. I just wanted a heads-up so I could be on the lookout for dead bodies floating in the water. Nothing kills a good swim more than bumping into a corpse!"

"Can I get back to my story?" Manfred asked with a tone of irritation.

"Go right ahead! I'm not stopping you."

"So I chased after the boy when he decided to run into the bad part of the beach- you know, where the paupers who rent condos reside- when suddenly, four attorneys- wearing their cheap, ugly suits and reeking of their putrid discount store aftershave- ambushed me from behind a bunch of umbrellas and knocked me to the ground like a bunch of filthy hyenas! I fought valiantly to the best of my abilities, swinging my cane as Paul Bunyan would his mighty ax; but alas, their numbers and envy for my perfect record were too great and I was overwhelmed. And, satisfied with their victory, the attorneys triumphantly trotted off, leaving both my body and dignity battered and bruised." Manfred said solemnly as he lowered his head.

Gant started playing with his hair. "That's horrible, Manny! Don't you worry; I'll personally bring those attorneys to justice! Just tell me what they look like and I'll have them arrested in a jiffy!"

Manfred started to break out in a cold sweat, his lie on the verge of unraveling before his very eyes. "You know that I don't bother remembering the appearances of mere defense attorneys."

Gant flashed Manfred a Gant Stare, which soon ended with the detective grinning. "Well, that's too bad."

Manfred breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, wanna have a nice, rousing chicken fight?" Gant jovially asked.

"If I refuse to play it in your pool at your foolish Fourth of July parties, then what makes you think that I'd want to play it in the ocean?" Manfred objected.

"C'mon, Manny, it'll make you feel better! Everyone likes a good chicken fight every now and then!"

"Well, I don't; and there's no way that you'll get me to play it with you. Now if you'll excuse me, I wish to return to my chair."

Manfred proceeds to wade away from Gant, but was stopped when Gant said the one comment that could get the infamous Manfred von Karma to do practically anything conceivable.

"Well, if you don't have what it takes…" Gant said with a sly grin, causing Manfred to turn around a flash the detective a scowl of fiery determination.

"Bah! There is no activity that I, Manfred von Karma, am not perfect in!"

"Then why don't you bring one of your kids here and show me what you've got… Unless, of course, you're _chicken_!"

Manfred growled. "Five minutes. That's all that I require for preparation."

* * *

A little bit later, Edgeworth was calmly walking along the shoreline, taking in the scenery and thoroughly enjoying this rare moment of rest from his prosecutorial studies, when suddenly he was grabbed by the shoulder and pulled into the ocean screaming.

"No! No! No!" Edgeworth screamed, flailing about as he tried to get his bearings. "Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! Franziska was right! Sea monsters _are_ real! I have to escape! I _will_ -" Edgeworth was interrupted by getting slapped on the back of the head before being greeted to the cold, all-too-familiar glare of his mentor/adoptive father.

"Get a grip on yourself, boy. I won't tolerate any student of mine behaving in such a foolish, unrefined matter."

Edgeworth scratched the back of his neck. Sorry about that, sir. You dragging me into the ocean was the last thing that I was expecting today. By the, why _did_ you drag me into the sea?"

I need you to help me defeat Gant in a chicken fight." Manfred said matter-of-factly, like this was something that he'd do on a regular basis, as he proceeded to drag Edgeworth by the arm as he made his way back to said detective.

"What?" Edgeworth asked with a look of confusion on his face.

"Here's the boy." Manfred said as he presented Edgeworth to Gant.

"Hello, Detective Gant." The adolescent calmly stated.

"Well, now that Worthy's joined the party, let's get this chicken fight started!" Gant said with a clap of his hands.

Edgeworth nervously raised a finger. "Um, sir? Don't you have a teammate? It would seem awfully unfair for the two of us to face only you."

"Quick to assume just like your mentor, eh, Worthy…? C'mon, Baddy! We've got a chicken fight to win!" Gant called out, prompting a man who towered over Manfred in term of height, wearing a black bathing suit and twiddling a stick in his mouth, to approach the trio and stare down at Manfred with a look of indifference.

"…von Karma."

"Bah! Of course you'd be here to give me a hard time, Badd! Is it you're mission of life to be a thorn in my side, you old bloodhound?" Manfred complained.

Bad pulled out the stick he was tiddling in his mouth, revealing it to be a lollipop, before putting it back in. "… Only while you keep calling me 'bloodhound'… Let's get this over with."

"S-S-Sir!" Edgeworth stammered, his face going pale upon seeing the towering man who would be his opponent. "That man.. He's huge! Logically speaking, with his height combined with that of Detective Gant's, we only have a point three percent chance of defeating them- and that's if we're lucky enough for the massive meteorite that wiped out the dinosaurs to hit them or God turns them into a pillar of salt!"

Manfred grabbed Edgeworth by the shoulders. "Miles Edgeworth, what are you?"

"A human?"

"Yes, but that's not what I'm referring to. What are you family-wise?"

"'The son of a filthy, no-good defense attorney', but I don't get how belittling my late father's line of work will help us now."

"I didn't mean your blood family, boy. I was referring to your legal family. What are you legally?"

"A von Karma."

"That's right! And no von Karma, whether by blood or adoption papers, will ever lose to a pair of imperfect mutts such as these! So what are we going to do?"

"Perfectly crush them under our combined might." Edgeworth smirked.

"As if they were mere defense attorneys." Manfred smirks back before turning to face Gant and Badd. "We're ready…"

* * *

30 seconds later, Manfred stormed out of the water, a piercing scowl on his face, as Edgeworth chased after him.

"Once again, I'm so sorry, sir! I tried my best!" Edgeworth pleaded.

"'Your best'? Miles, that was one of the most disappointing, embarrassingly-bad performances that I've ever seen- and this is coming from the man who watched _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: The Movie_. But perhaps our complete and utter defeat wouldn't have been quite as soul-crushing had you not been pushed off my shoulders in the first 10 seconds! Setting up took more time than the actual match thanks to you!"

"Well, sir, maybe we wouldn't have lost so easily had you actually tried to move out of the way of their first attack."

"Bah! You and your excuses…! I knew I should have gone with Franziska. At least she could have put her riding crop to good use. Speaking of which, go fetch her, boy. I wish to return to the beach house."

"Yes, sir…" Edgeworth sullenly replied before going out in search of his adoptive sister.

* * *

Meanwhile, Franziska and Ema had finally rebuilt their sandcastle, only for it to be immediately destroyed once more by someone crushing it with their foot.

"Hey!" Ema yelled. "What's… the… big… idea…?" The young girl was silenced when she looked up to see an adolescent boy, wearing a navy-blue swimsuit, with his long, blond hair tied into a drill-shaped braid on the left side of his head staring down at her and Franziska with a smirk on his face, the light from the sun reflecting off of his glasses to give him a more foreboding presence.

"Hello, girls. Which one of you assaulted my little brother?" The boy calmly asked as the two girls got up off the ground?

"I told you my big brother would come and kick your butt!" Klavier boasted. "That's her, Kristoph! That's the girl who made me ugly!" The young lad yelled while pointing at Franziska.

Kristoph sauntered over to Franziska. "Is this true?"

"Yes, but that's because he foolishly tried to romance me and that foolish girl with me with juice boxes. He had it coming!" Franziska defensively stated as she bent her riding crop.

"I know that. _I_ have to live with that little nuisance; but he's still my little brother and I shan't tolerate anyone hurting him on my watch. Still, I'm a peaceful sort who doesn't like to stoop to violence, so if you just simply apologize to Klavier, I'll let this slide. How about it?"

"How about THIS!" Franziska yelled as she whipped Kristoph, who was completely unfazed by the blow.

Kristoph pushed up his glasses, covering his mouth. "Now, now, that was rather rude, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, that's what you get when you ask foolish questions like that. Perhaps if your family wasn't so full of foolishly foolish fools, then I wouldn't have to whip the lot of you." Franziska wryly retorted.

"You know, little girl, perhaps someone ought to… knock you down a peg!" Kristoph angrily said as he forcefully pushed Franziska to the ground.

"Woo! You go, bro!" Klavier cheered as he pumped his fists.

Kristoph gazed down on the young, silver-haired girl, who was fighting back a tear.

"Aw, what's wrong, little girl? Gonna cry? Well, maybe that'll teach you what happens when you mess with the big boys. Why don't you go home and play with your dollies or hold a tea party or what else annoying little girls such as yourself do." Kristoph stated.

"I am not a little girl! I'm-" Franziska snarled as she tried to pick herself off the ground, only for Kristoph to push her right back down.

"On the ground." Kristoph sneered.

"Stop it!" Franziska pouted as she tried to get back up, only for Kristoph to push her back down.

"I mean it!" Franziska tried to get back up, back was shoved once more.

"Let me stand back up, you foolish fool, or I swear, I will make you rue the day that you messed with me!" Franziska hissed.

"Alright, but only because you asked so nicely." Kristoph replied, allowing Franziska to get back up.

Franziska pulled out her riding crop. "Now, where was I? Right! I'm-" Franziska was cut off by Kristoph yet again pushing her to the ground.

"Back on the ground… where you belong." Kristoph sneered.

As Franziska and Kristoph continued this cycle, Ema repeatedly cried out for help in the hopes that someone would end this; which came in the form of Edgeworth, who was already walking towards their position, but looked over when he heard the cries for help, where he saw Kristoph repeatedly pushing his adoptive sister to the ground off in the distance.

 _Oh no! Franziska! Don't worry, Franziska, I'll save you from that brutish girl!_ Edgeworth thought to himself as he rushed over to his sister's aid.

"Are you ready to admit defeat and apologize to my brother, or do I need to knock some more sense into you?" Kristoph asked Franziska who was lying on the ground, her face red as she struggled to hold back her tears.

"I-"

"Franziska!" Edgeworth called out as ran over to the group, cutting off his sister as everyone directed their attention to him.

However, the person most affected by Edgeworth's arrival was not Franziska nor Kristoph, but rather Ema. For while everyone else merely saw a toned adolescent boy wearing a maroon bathing suit, little Ema instead thought of it like a scene straight out of _Baywatch_ \- a slow-motion shot of this tanned, muscular specimen of a man- with abs that looked as if one could use them to wash clothes and firm pecks that resembled window frames- as droplets of water flew off of him and his silky hair flowed in the wind. To Ema Skye, this being was not a boy or man, but a demigod- like Heracles! No! Heracles looked like some ugly three-legged puppy that hadn't been fed in three days when compared to this perfect Adonis! But his level of hotness was not important at the moment, for he was running in her direction and Ema had to think of the perfect thing to say to him. She had only one shot to win his heart!

"Franziska, I-" Edgeworth was interrupted by Ema stepping out in front of him. "Um, can I help you?"

"Humina-humina-humina-humina-humina-humina…" Ema sputtered, her eyes wide and her cheeks bright red.

"Okaaay…" Edgeworth said as he hesitantly walked around Ema, who was as motionless as a statue, to confront Kristoph.

"This may be the 21st Century and all, but where I'm raised, it's expected that a lady…" Edgeworth cut himself off upon noticing that Kristoph was actually a man, causing him to flinch. "S-Sorry… It's just that your hair…"

Kristoph glowered at this boy who was obviously fashion-blind. "Oh, and like _you're_ one to talk, Mr. I-Wear-a-Pink-Swimsuit!"

"P-PINK! I'll have you know that this swimsuit is not pink, but maroon. Maroon! Say it with me now: 'Ma-rune'. Maroon!" Edgeworth snapped, tired of every person he meets wrongly thinking that his color of choice is pink.

"Look, did you come over here to give me a lesson in colors?" Kristoph asked with a tone of irritation.

"No, I came here to stop you from abusing my little sister."

"Hey, she started it when she whipped my little brother and then proceeded to whip me!" Kristoph objected.

"When it comes to Franziska's short-tempered response of whipping every male who even so much as breathes funny around her, I am the first one to condone her behavior; but she's still a human being- a child, no less- and does not deserve to get literally pushed around for it!"

"Oh, and just what are you going to do about it?" Kristoph sneered.

Edgeworth reached into his mind and, after thinking through all the extracurricular activities that Manfred required him to do over the years, recalled the set of skills that would be best suited to fisticuffs.

"This…" Edgeworth thrust out his arms, spread his legs, and assumed a position similar to that of a linebacker.

"If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you get!" Kristoph stated as he attempted to punch Edgeworth, only to miss as the boy moved his head to the left.

Lucky dodge, but let's see how you deal with _this_!" Kristoph tried to punch Edgeworth again, but like last time, the magenta-suited teen dodged the attack by moving his head- only this time to the right.

Kristoph growled. "Alright, playtime is OVER!"

Kristoph tries to attack Edgeworth with a series of punches and kicks, but the adolescent dodges them with moves that he had learned from taking ballet- including, but not limited to, plies, arabesques, and grande jetes. After a minute or two of dodging, Edgeworth noticed that Kristoph was starting to tire out, his motions becoming sluggish and sloppy, and decided to seize this opportunity to perform his finishing attack.

Edgeworth started to spin, raising his arms over his head and touching his fingertips together as he started to spin faster and faster, building up more and more speed. And upon reaching maximum speed, Edgeworth immediately stopped spinning, putting all of his momentum into his right hand, and slapped Kristoph in the chest; sending the adolescent flying back a bit before his back hit the ground with a loud thud.

"Khris!" Klavier yelled as he ran over to his brother. "Khris, ya gotta get up and avenge me! Ya gotta!"

Kristoph sat up. "*huff* *huff* Klavier… A proud man continues to fight, but a smart man knows when to retreat and plan his next attack." The adolescent got back up on his feet and glared at Edgeworth. "You may have won this time, but don't think that this is over yet! I'll get you for this!" Kristoph yelled, shaking his fist as he and Klavier fled from the area.

After making sure that the two blond boys were gone, Edgeworth help Franziska, who was still red in the cheeks and sniffling, back on her feet.

"Are you okay, Franziska? Did that ruffian hurt you?" Edgeworth asked with a tone of concern as he dusted some sand off his little sister's back.

"Y-Yeah, I'm.. I'm fine." Franziska sniffled as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"Franziska, are you… crying?" Edgeworth asked, feeling a combination of pity and hope that Franziska would actually express her feelings for a change instead of bottling them up. Sure, Edgeworth wasn't one to talk, but for a girl of Franziska's age to be so emotionally restrained was unhealthy.

"N-NO!" Franziska yelled, whipping Edgeworth with her trusty riding crop. "Don't be so foolish! I just merely got some sand in my eyes."

Edgeworth stroked Franziska's hair. "Sure you did, Franziska… Sure you did… Now let's get going. Your father's ready to leave and he sent me to retrieve you; and based on his mood when I last spoke with him, if we aren't back with him soon we'll both be on the receiving end of the stun gun."

"Well, then I guess that I have to get back to him first!" Franziska chirped, her mood undergoing a 180 degree shift. "Last one back to Papa is a rotten defense attorney!" Franziska yelled as she ran ahead.

"Not if I get there first!" Edgeworth playfully replied as he ran after Franziska, but not too fast in order to preserve her lead.


	4. Blue Bluejay, MMMMMMMMMMMMM!

**A/N:** Ages of the characters introduced in this chapter:

 **Adrian: 14**

 **Aura: 18**

 **Simon: 9**

 **Maya: 9**

With that said, enjoy the chapter!

* * *

"Papa, can we please settle on a restaurant already? I am _starving_!" Franziska pouted with a scowl on her face, crossing the arms as she hunched over in the back of her father's Mercedes, the family's vehicle of choice when they wished to attract as little attention as possible.

"Don't be so melodramatic, Franziska. You're not starved, you're peckish. To be starving would entail that you have not eaten in days- a fact that is quickly disproven by the turkey sandwich that you helped yourself to before we left the mansion." Edgeworth coolly responded, earning him a smack from Franziska's riding crop.

"Stop being such a foolish know-it-all, Miles Edgeworth! You're my little brother, not my dictionary!" Franziska growled.

"'Foolish know-it-all'? That's an oxymoron, Franziska. Maybe if you'd actually calm down and carefully think about what comes out of your mouth, I wouldn't have to serve as a sentient dictionary." Edgeworth calmly retorted, earning himself another lash on the shoulder.

"Calm down? Calm down?! How can I 'calm down' when Papa's been driving us around in circles for the last 30 minutes in an attempt to find a restaurant? Maybe _you_ should calm up!" Franziska yelled as she pounded her seat with her fist before giving her 'little' brother another taste of good ol' Mr. Ridding Crop.

"Perhaps it would be in both of your best interests to just shut up." Manfred growled, his fists clenching the steering wheel with white knuckles, his cold gaze remaining focused on the road ahead of him.

"But Papaaaa…! It's six o'clock and I haven't eaten since 11 this morning! Can we please just stop somewhere?" Franziska whined.

"'Stop somewhere'…" Manfred parroted in a sense of disbelief. "von Karma's don't just 'stop somewhere', girl. We only go to top-of-the-line restaurants where the best wine available isn't from your mouth."

Edgeworth softly cleared his throat and raised his finger. "In Franziska's defense, sir, this is a vacation town, not the Champs-Elysees. You're not exactly going to find caviar and escargots in a sea of restaurants the likes of Big Willy's and Taco King."

Manfred slowly turned his head to glare at his adopted son. "You know, Miles, when you talk back to me like that, you remind me a lot of your father. So refresh my memory, how did he die?"

Reminded of the pain of that horrible day, Edgeworth's shoulders slumped over as he let out a heavy sigh. "He was shot like a dog by a criminal who got away, sir."

Correct." Manfred smirked, basking in his victory over both Gregory and his son. "And what led to his downfall?"

"He foolishly decided to go against you in a futile attempt at victory, disregarding your perfect evidence and witnesses." The adolescent sullenly stated, as if he had been through this exact line of questioning many times prior to this.

"Exactly. Never, under no circumstances, defy my logic- and that goes for you as well, Franziska. For if you challenge my logic, you will be murdered when you are most vulnerable and your killer will escape, never to face justice for their crime. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Edgeworth and Franziska stated in unison.

"Good…" Manfred returned his focus to the road. "Now make yourselves useful and help me find a quality restaurant."

"How about that one?" Franziska asked, pointing to a brown brick building adjacent to a sign with a bushel of neon purple grapes on it that read 'Grape Vineyard'.

"Grape Vineyard?" Edgeworth snorted in derision. "Do we look like uncultured, slovenly men who haven't seen their feet in over a decade or shallow women whose only source of exercise is chasing down the ice cream truck to you?"

"My thoughts exactly. Keep searching." Manfred coldly stated.

"Alright… How about there?" Franziska asked, pointing to a log cabin-esque building adjacent to a sign that had a pig wearing a chef's outfit holding a plate of ribs in one hand and giving a thumbs-up with the other that read 'Porker's Ribs'.

"Have you ever tried to get steak sauce out of a cravat, Franziska? It's a nightmare and I'm not in the mood to deal with whoever does our laundry's complaining."

"The servant who handles our laundry at the Los Angeles mansion's name is Gertrude, sir." Edgeworth chimed in, earning another glare from his mentor.

"Did I ask for that information, boy?"

"No, sir." Edgeworth responded without a moment of hesitation.

"Then why did you feel the need to foolishly tell me?"

"Well, I figured that you simply forgot her name and that it wouldn't hurt to remind you of it for future reference."

"Bah!" Manfred sneered. "I do not forget facts, Miles; I merely choose not to remember trivial ones. For what use would it be for me to recall the name of someone so replaceable and beneath me? We are the von Karma- all other life on this planet, with the obvious exception of Santa, is beneath us, and to allow your mind to be clouded with thoughts of triviality and imperfection is to descend to their level. That's why I only bother to remember the names of three kinds of people: those who I can use, those who are consistent thorns in my side, and Santa because he, like us, has achieved perfection. This is the thinking that both you and Franziska must employ if you wish to become truly perfect."

"Yes, sir." Edgeworth and Franziska stated in unison.

"Now if you two want to prove your capabilities as my students, select the perfect restaurant. The first one to do so will receive a compliment."

"I can't do that, sir." Edgeworth stated with a cold look in his eyes and his arms crossed.

"And why is that, boy?"

Edgeworth uncrossed his arms, smirking as he waggled his finger. "Isn't it obvious, sir? How am I supposed to know what the perfect restaurant is if I don't know what kinds of food you're in the mood for?"

A toothy grin slowly spread across Manfred's face. "Always quick to pick out details, eh Miles… That's why you're my student." _Among other reasons…_ "Given our current location, I'm willing to temporarily lower my standards to a decent hamburger. And remember, children, if it has a drive-thru, it has no quality."

A smirk spread across Franziska face. "Prepare your compliment, Papa, because I've found the perfect restaurant."

"Well, point it out." Manfred replied.

"There!" Franziska triumphantly proclaimed, her finger proudly pointing to a building that caused her adoptive brother to fight the urge to burst out in a fit of laughter and her father to flinch as his eyes bugged out.

Of all the restaurants Franziska could have pointed out, she had to choose _that_ one… Melons, an eating establishment famous for their wide variety of melons: watermelons, cantaloupes, and the ones which belonged to the scantily cladded waitresses who jiggled in all the right places. So suffice to say, it was Blaise's favorite restaurant to drag Manfred and Gant to for birthday parties, lazy Friday evenings, and funerals for people who 'disappeared' for reasons which one could easily deduce after spending five or so minutes with the Chief Prosecutor. And after decades of having to watch Blaise undress young women with his eyes, and a bit with his hands, Manfred made an unspoken promise to never let Franziska anywhere near a Melons, lest the whorish tendencies of the waitresses poison his perfect daughter's mind and the hands of dirty men poison her below the waist. He also sought to never let Miles in such an establishment, either; not because he cared for the boy's health, but because the more exposure that the lad had to women, the more likely he'd be to get a date, and the more likely he was to get dates, the more likely he was to reproduce- and Manfred would be damned if he allowed for the vile seed of Gregory Edgeworth to be sewn!

"What's wrong, Papa?" Franziska asked, noticing that her father was as stiff as a board, his face still contorted in pain. "Was my choice in restaurant too perfect for words?"

"Oh, it was perfect, alright… Perfectly wrong! Please tell me that these foolish restaurant choices that have spewed forth from your mouth are some form of retribution for some past injustice on my part; because if these are your ideas of perfection, then I weep bitter tears for the von Karma family name."

"What! Why not!?" Franziska snapped, her look of pride quickly being replaced by a glare of fiery fury.

"It has nothing to offer us." Manfred bluntly responded.

"Objection!" Franziska yelled, pointing her riding crop to the sign in front of Melons, which depicted a woman holding a tray with two watermelons in front of her. "The sign clearly reads 'Melons: Serving Burgers, Watermelon, and Funmelons since 1972'- emphasis on hamburgers, the food that you desire this evening. So what's wrong with Melons?"

"It's a trashy, low-class establishment that caters to the dregs of society."

For a few moments, Franziska was silent and Manfred felt that he managed to defuse the situation pretty well. But unfortunately, that feeling was short-lived as the last words Manfred wanted to hear at this moment flowed forth from Franziska's mouth.

"And why exactly _is_ Melons so trashy and low class?" The silver-haired girl asked, cocking her in confusion. "Is it because of the watermelons, or because it offers fun?"

 _The latter, but not in the context that you're thinking of, dear sister…_ Edgeworth thought to himself as he proceeded to cover his mouth in a thinly-vailed attempt to hide his laughter.

Manfred's fingers began to fidget on the warm, black leather of the steering wheel as a few drops of sweat dripped down his brow. "Well… You see, Franziska… I, erm…" The perfect prosecutor imperfectly struggled with how to bring up the crux of Melon's business plan- drawing in sad, horney, desperate men with cheap food and waitresses that show more leg than a drumstick- to his nine-year-old daughter; looking over to his adoptive son with a look in his eyes that screamed 'Help!'

"Don't look at me, sir. You got yourself into this mess, so it's only logical that you get yourself out." Edgeworth said with a big grin on his face, sounding as if he was having the time of his life.

 _Damn you, Miles Edgeworth! First my shoulder, and now my sanity…!? It's times like this that make me excited for your downfall at my hand in 2016. But now's not the time to be thinking of that; I need to focus on convincing Franziska why Melons is a horrible restraint choice. Reasons… Reasons… Ah!_

"Melons serves only Pepsi products, and I will, under no circumstances, allow my family to drink such bilge- we're a Coca-Cola family. Not to mention, the knuckle-dragging servers refill your beverage when it's only half-way empty." Manfred calmly stated.

"I understand, Papa..." Franziska sighed, her shoulders slumping over as a look of defeat filled her grey eyes, prompting Edgeworth to gently pat her on the back.

"It's alright, Franziska, you didn't know better. There's always next time."

Franziska lashed Edgeworth with her riding crop. "Shut up, Miles Edgeworth! I'm a von Karma, I don't need your foolish pity!" The young girl snapped, crossing her arms and turning her back to her adopted brother.

"I assure you, Franziska, this is not pity. I'm simply stating that you didn't know that Melons was an undesirable restaurant, and now that you've learned your lesson, you will avoid that mistake from now on and have better luck in the future.

"Luck is a foolish concept that serves as a foolish security blanket of foolishness for fools with no hope of achieving perfection; fools like you, Miles Edgeworth." Franziska scoffed.

"But may I offer some advice…?" Edgeworth asked.

"Only if you want my riding crop to do the same." Franziska sneered.

Edgeworth continued on, unfazed from years of being a part of the von Karma family. "Perfection is not achieved through using the same method every time, but rather through gaging the situation and acting accordingly. Sure, your strategy of rushing in guns ablazing and overwhelming the opponent has its benefits, but when you're not in complete control of the situation, it can result in many misses; your restaurant suggestions being the perfect example. That's why you must learn the virtue of patience- to restrain yourself as you wait for the right moment to strike."

Franziska lashed her 'little' brother with her riding crop, as promised. "Well, if you're so perfect, why don't _you_ suggest a restaurant."

"Fine, I will." Edgeworth smirked.

The maroon-cladded adolescent waited for a minute, looking out the window as he carefully studied the nearby restaurants.

"There." Edgeworth said as he pointed to a building next to a large, plastic statue depicting a cartoonish bluejay holding a large hamburger in one hand and a sign reading 'Blue BlueJay' in the other.

"Ha!" Franziska sneered. "You've officially reached a new level of foolishness, Miles Edgeworth, because Papa would never go for a foolish place like this."

"Granted, it's not the first place I'd choose, but given our current location, it'll do. Good job, Miles." Manfred stated as he pulled into the parking lot.

"You were saying…?" Edgeworth smirked, earning him a lash from Franziska's riding crop.

"You just got lucky!" Franziska huffed as she glowered at her brother.

"I thought you didn't believe in luck." Edgeworth smugly retorted.

"S-Shut up!" Franziska snapped, once again whipping the maroon-cladded adolescent with her trusty riding crop.

"Cease this tomfoolery, both of you, and help me locate an empty spot." Manfred demanded as he circled around the seemingly-full parking lot.

"There's a spot over there, sir…" Edgeworth stated as he pointed to an empty spot towards the back. "Right next to that neon-orange Mustang that just parked.

Manfred flinched, breaking out in a cold sweat. "O-Orange Mustang… Dear Santa, please tell me that it's anyone but-"

At that moment, Gant exited from the Mustang and proceeded to walk towards the restaurant.

"Pray he doesn't look over, pray he doesn't look over…" Manfred mumbled to himself, his knuckles turning white from clenching the steering wheel.

Franziska cocked her head in confusion. "Why are you acting so anti-social around Detective Gant, Papa?"

"I think Mr. von Karma is still a bit sore regarding our defeat in a chicken fight against the good detective earlier today." Edgeworth chimed in.

"True, but that's not why I want to avoid him. I do not wish for Gant to see us because if he does, he'll want to eat dinner with us while rambling on and on about trivial topics like swimming, or the weather, or how many officers were killed in the line of duty last week. Do I look like I care about mere grunts that are a dime a dozen?"

But unfortunately for the veteran prosecutor, Gant saw the Mercedes out of the corner of his eye and turned to face the von Karma family, grinning like his usual happy-go-lucky self.

"Well, it appears that ship has sailed." Edgeworth noted.

"Maybe he didn't see us." Manfred replied in a hopeful tone.

"Man-nay!" Gant giddily proclaimed, vigorously waving his hand as if he was trapped on a deserted island for days and was flagging down a boat.

"He saw us, Papa." Franziska stated.

"I know." Manfred grumbled as he pulled into the spot.

* * *

Gant stood outside the restaurant's front entrance, grinning with clasped hands upon seeing Edgeworth and Franziska walking towards him as Manfred followed behind, dragging his feet as if he was being sent to the gallows.

"Worthy! Good to see ya!" Gant proclaimed as he vigorously shook the adolescent's hand and arm. "Hope you're not too sore after our little chicken fight."

"No, sir, I'm as fit as a fiddle."

"Good to hear!"

Gant went over to Franziska and kneeled down so that he was at eye-level with the young girl, extending his arm out in an attempt to ruffle her hair, but quickly stopped upon seeing her raise her riding crop.

"Touch my hair and my riding crop smacks you!" Franziska growled as she brandished her trusty weapon.

"All walls and no doors, just like your dad, eh Franny-Banany?" Gant chuckled as he got beck up on his feet.

Finally, Gant went over to Manfred and gave the prosecutor a bear hug, much to the latter's disdain. "Manny, it's always good to see you!"

"Too bad I can't say the same regarding you." Manfred wryly retorted.

"Heh heh heh! Classic Manny! Always being Mr. Doom-and-Gloom Storm Cloud! Why, this reminds me of Halloweens when we were kids. While the other children were going around dressed as Rocky and Bullwinkle, your dad would be wearing a suit and tie, saying that he was from the IRS!" Gant heartily laughed as he clapped his hands.

"The IRS took down Al Capone. They are not to be taken lightly. And like you're one to talk, considering that you would wear only an orange speedo, claiming to be an Olympic swimmer."

"Yeah, good times, good times… Say, Manny, what brings you on down to this neck of the woods?"

"Do I have to answer, Gant? Look at our surroundings…" Manfred gestured to the space around them. "Does this area look like the type to contain my kind of restaurants?"

Gant patted Manfred on the back. "Heh heh! Look on the bright side, Manny. This is a good way to broaden your horizons. Take a break from pea-sized portions and tables with a thousand different forks!"

"I thought that you'd be the last person to insult peas, considering that your brain's the size of one." Manfred retorted.

"Always quick with that sharp tongue of yours, eh Manny? Well, as much as I'd like to stay here and shoot the breeze, I'm in the mood for some grub. So let's get in there and get ourselves a table- no, booth! I'm feeling whimsical tonight!"

"And so it begins…" Manfred grumbled as Gant wrapped his arm around the veteran prosecutor and walked them both into the building, with Edgeworth and Franziska following closely behind.

* * *

Several minutes later, the von Karma family and Gant had been seated at a booth against one of the side walls- Manfred and Gant on one side an Edgeworth and Franziska on the other- where Gant was telling the children stories from his and their father/mentor's childhoods.

"…And after five or so minutes of relentlessly chasing Manny around the school, Grossy pounced and sat on him for five minutes until he cried and gave up the class menorah. After that, Manny's back was heavily sprained, so he had to wear a back brace for a month and was given a week's worth of detention for his crimes. And that, children, is the story of how Manny tried to steal Hanukah."

"Lies!" Franziska snarled as she lashed her riding crop at Gant. "Papa is perfect! So if he wanted to steal something, he would succeed with no issues!"

"Oh, I assure you, Franny-Banany, it's as true as the nose on my face. Why, when Manny, Blaisie, and I were kids, we use to get in all sorts of shenanigans." Gant replied with a grin.

"So are there other such stories about Mr. von Karma, Mr. Gant?" Edgeworth asked, his chin propped up on his fist, ready to absorb all of the jovial detective's tales like a sponge.

"The real question you should be asking, Worthy, is how far back you want me to go. For example, back when we were in kindergarten, Manny had a little too much lemonade during snack time. So as you can imagine, during playtime-"

"Utter one more word on the topic, Gant, and you won't have a mouth in which to spew foolish drivel from." Manfred growled.

"Alright, alright; I'll stop, but only because you asked _so_ nicely." Gant stated as he played with his hair.

"Good. Now onto my next complaint: What on earth is taking our server so long to get here? Server!" Manfred yelled, snapping his fingers.

At that moment, a young, slender girl with long, straight blonde hair and glasses, wearing a blue polo shirt and a brown skirt, nervously scurried over to the table.

"I'm sooo sorry about the wait, sir! I was busy taking orders for a table of 12 and none of them could decide on what to get! And it didn't help that the kids were dying to get milkshakes, but the parents wouldn't let them, and then they started arguing! I-"

Manfred snapped his fingers again, silencing the adolescent server. "I don't care about your work life, girl. Just take our orders!" Manfred bellowed, flashing the girl a glare intense enough to make her take a step back.

"S-Sorry, sir. M-May I take your order?" The server nervously asked as she took out a notepad which slipped out of her hands, forcing her to quickly pick it up.

Manfred pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing as he realized that he had the misfortune of getting one of _those_ servers- the kind that try too hard to please you, yet can't do anything right to save their lives.

"Look, I am not in the mood for failure, so I'm going to tell you our orders nice and slowly. For our drinks, we will have four glasses of water with exactly three ice cubes- not four, not two, not seven, but three. Any beverages with an amount of ice cubes other than three will result in said beverage, or beverages, getting thrown in your face as a lesson. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" The girl responded, her posture as stiff as an arrow as she wrote down the terrifying prosecutor's drink request.

"In regards to our meals, we will have four plain, well-done hamburgers- no pink, burnt, well-done!- and four sides of french-fries."

"And make mine with a side of ranch!" Franziska chimed in; whacking her riding crop against the table to get the server's attention as the server quickly recorded the table's very-specific order.

"Now hold on a minute, Manny. That's not what I want!" Gant protested.

"Then what _do_ you want?" Manfred growled.

"Well, I for my drink, I want a…" Gant rubbed his chin as if he was contemplating a life-changing decision. "Root beer! No, RC Cola! No, Root beer! No, Dr.- cherry Dr. Pepper, and that's my final choice."

The server jotted this new beverage on her notepad.

"And for my meal…" Gant picked up his menu and proceeded to peruse it, eliciting a sigh from everyone else at the table. "Young lady, can you please explain the difference between the Sriracha Burger and the Hombre X-Treme Burger?"

"Well, sir, the Sriracha Burger comes with pickles, onions, and lettuce, coated with a spicy chili-garlic sauce; whereas the Hombre X-Treme Burger comes with the same sauce, only it contains jalapeno peppers, tomatoes, and pepper jack cheese."

"Oh, both of those sound really tasty."

Manfred snapped his fingers. "Just pick something already, Gant! It's a hamburger, for goodness sake, not what color you're painting your living room!"

Gant flashed the veteran prosecutor one of his infamous stares. "…Manny, the Hombre X-Treme burger is a limited-time offer. I want to be properly informed as to whether or not I should give it a try. But if you're going to go rushing me like this, I'll try the Hombre X-Treme burger with a side of fries."

"An excellent choice, sir." The server replied as she finished writing down Gant's order. "By the way, my name's Adrian, so if you need anything, just call for me." Adrian said as she went to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Adrian rushed out of the kitchen with the table's drinks, only to stumble and spill each and every beverage all over Manfred, drenching the prosecutor.

"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" Adrian constantly repeated as she tried her best to sop up the liquids on Manfred's suit, stopping when he started to growl at her. "Right! Once again, I am so, so sorry about that! I'll get you some more drinks right away, on the house!"

Meanwhile, at the booth right behind Manfred, Aura Blackquill, who was wearing a violet hoodie and jeans despite it being 97 degrees Fahrenheit outside, was resting the side of her head on her hand, eating a french-fry as she glared over at her little brother- wearing a black kimono, a _Naruto_ headband, an Ash Ketchum hat, and bike gloves- who was staring longingly at his friend, a young Maya Fey.

"Is the food here oishii, Maya-chan?" Simon asked with a look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, it's great! Thanks for taking me here!" Maya chirped as she excitedly ate her burger.

"Yatta! I'm so relieved. I wanted to take you to my favorite soba restaurant, followed by a trip to hear some desu rakugo, but my uncultured imouto insisted that I take you here." Simon said as he scowled at Aura, who rolled her eyes at her brother.

"Hey, don't look at me, dweeb. Do you think that I want to spend my Friday evening watching you and your dirty weeaboo ways? I'm only here because Mom's busy with work."

"Baka! I am not a weeaboo, Aura-chan!" Simon huffed.

"Who are you kidding, snot head? Ever since Dad up and left, you've become a full-blown Japanophile- wearing that ridiculous outfit, refusing to eat anything that isn't served in Japan, throwing Japanese into every single sentence, and the piece de résistance: searching high and low for a Japanese girl your age to be your girlfriend."

"For your information, Aura-chan, I became pen pals with Maya-chan because we share a special connection, not because she's Japanese."

"Oh please, we both know that you only became pen pals with her after you spent a whole day looking up authentic Japanese neighborhoods in the greater Los Angeles area and then writing letters to every address you found asking for 'kawaii lolis' to write you back. I still remember the look on Mom's face when the cops came knocking on our door."

"Sure, I may be a bit of an otaku-"

"Ha! You're such a big weeaboo that if I cut you open, you'd probably bleed sake, ramen, and butthurt comments about how Japanese subs are better than English dubs." Aura sneered.

Simon glared at his sister. "You know, Aura-chan, your tsundere attitude is starting to wear desu thin on my patience. You're ruining my oishii dinner that I am trying to enjoy with my kawaii bishoujo loli, Maya-chan.

"What are you even trying to say, you freaking weeb? Try speaking English, you know, the language of the country that we live in."

"Hey, don't get mad at me just because I'm in a relationship and you're not." Simon sneered.

Aura slammed her palm on the table. "Go kiss your Sailor Moon pillow, weeb dweeb! If I wasn't stuck with you, I could have any guy I want!" Aura hissed, getting right in Simon's face.

"And how is your inability to get senpais to notice you my fault? Having a shota-bo like me for an otouto is quite effective in the dating game." Simon smirked, causing Aura to roll her eyes.

"Yeah, because guys are _really_ attracted to girls who have to drag around their little brothers who haven't bathed in over a week and are under the delusion that they are Japanese."

Simon slammed his palms on the table. "For your information, Aura-chan, I have watched six animes in the course of three months, so that essentially makes me desu Japanese."

"No, it doesn't. And no matter how hard you try to deny, you'll always be of English decent."

Simon flinched. "No, it's not true!"

Aura sneered. "Oh, but it is, Simon. You're English…"

"No!"

"You're destined to be good at dry humor and bad at cooking…"

"Lalalalala! I can't hear you!" Simon yelled as he put his hands over his ears.

"You can't change your ethnicity with cartoons…!"

"They're. Not. Cartoons!" Simon snarled, his nostrils flaring, as he grabbed a french-fry and threw it at Aura, hitting her square in the face.

"Bad move, weeb!" Aura growled as she picked up a french-fry from her own plate and threw it at Simon, hitting him on the arm.

"Itai! Now I'm angry!" Simon yelled as he and Aura began to throw a barrage of french-fries at each other as Maya innocently ate her burger and watched the show.

"Unagi Surge!" Simon bellowed as he picked up a small cup of ranch dressing and flung it at his sister, missing and hitting the back of Manfred's head, prompting the prosecutor to quickly turn around and glare at the Blackquill siblings.

Manfred snapped his fingers, quelling the conflict between the two siblings. "My family and I, along with a man who I can't seem to get rid of, are trying to enjoy a peaceful meal. So it would be in your best interest to immediately cease your yelling and tomfoolery."

"Um, sir…" Edgeworth nervously said.

"What is it, boy?" Manfred snapped.

"The back of your head… it has some ranch dressing on it."

Manfred stroked the back of his head, snarling upon verifying Edgeworth's claim as correct in the form of feeling a cold, white gooey substance.

"Why you little…!" Manfred yelled as he pulled out his stun gun, only to be stopped by Gant grabbing his arm.

"Calm down, Manny, they're not worth the effort."

"Stay out of this, Gant! They wrong me and must suffer for their transgressions!"

Gant tightened his grip on Manfred's arm and flashed the latter his infamous stare. "…Manny…"

"You always have to play the good guy…" Manfred grumbled as he returned his stun gun to his pocket. "But as for you two, I don't want to hear another noise from your table. Understand?"

"I understand…" Aura groaned. "Hey weeb," The purple-haired girl said as she slapped Simon's shoulder, "apologize."

"Baka! I'm not apologizing for how _you_ made Dracula angry!" Simon whined.

Manfred flinched upon hearing the comment. _D-Dracula!? What is it with people and comparing me to a vampire?_

"Oh please, you wouldn't know Dracula unless he was a teenage girl with saucer-sized eyes!" Aura sneered. "He's obviously the reincarnation of the First Doctor from _Doctor Who_."

"Franziska cocked her head in confusion. "What's a 'Dr. Who'? Some foolish Dr. Seuss character?"

"He's not some character from your dry, uncultured show! He's Dracula!" Simon growled.

"Better than your over-glorified cartoons, soba snot! He's the First Doctor!" Aura retorted.

"He's Dracula!"

"Dr. Who!"

"Dracula!"

"Dr. Who!"

"Dracula!"

"Dr. Who!"

Manfred snapped his fingers, silencing the siblings once more. "Manfred von Karma, the perfect prosecutor!"

"Well, look on the bright side, Manny- we now have plenty of ideas for your Halloween costume next year!" Gant mused, laughing as he clapped his hands.

Manfred scowled at the jovial detective. "You're enjoying this, aren't you...?"

At that moment, Adrian rushed out with the replacement drinks for Manfred's table.

"Once again, I am sooo sorry about tha-AH!" Adrian screamed as she slipped on some spilled ranch that was a byproduct of Simon's Unagi Surge, falling back and spilling the drinks once more… all over Manfred.

"Swap seats with me, Gant." Manfred curtly demanded, to which the detective was all too happy to comply.

* * *

Later, after Simon's table had left the building and Adrian managed to actually give the von Karma table their drinks without error, including the correct number of ice cubes, the adolescent server gave the law-enforcement group their meals.

"So, is everything to your liking?" Adrian asked as she nervously twiddled her thumbs.

"Yup!" Gant proclaimed.

"Excellent." Edgeworth stated.

"It's edible." Franziska responded after swallowing a bite of her burger.

Adrian breathed a sigh of relief as a grin spread across her face. "Good to hear! And you, sir?" Adrian asked Manfred, who just sat there in silence as he glowered at his half-cut burger. "Sir..?"

"Tell me, girl? Are you trying to provoke me?"

"No, sir! Of course not! What gave you that idea?"

"My hamburger is RAW!" Manfred bellowed in a low, booming voice as he held up the offending sandwich!

Adrian quickly took a step back, her arms outstretched to serve as a barrier between her and the wrathful prosecutor.

"I'm so sorry, sir! Allow me to-" The server was interrupted by Manfred snapping his fingers.

"Bah! You have done enough damage, foolish girl! I demand to see the manager of this establishment!" Manfred roared as he forcefully pushed Gant out of the booth marched to the side of the table.

At that moment, a man with shoulder-length chestnut-brown hair, wearing a tacky Hawaiian flower shirt and swim trunks, rushed over to Manfred as Adrian fled the area as fast as she could.

Manfred rolled his eyes. _This explains everything…_

"Like, customer-dude, what seems to be your beef? Get it, 'cause we, like, serve beef here…" The man said as he nudged the veteran prosecutor's arm with his elbow- an act equivalent to poking an already-furious bear with a stick.

"Get away from me, _boy_!" Manfred snarled as he slapped the manager's arm. "And as for my 'beef', I asked for a well-done burger and instead got THIS!"

The veteran prosecutor showed his burger to the manager, who looked at it with confusion.

"Sir-dude, like, I don't see what's wrong. It looks like a well-done burger to me."

"Are you daft!? See that pink spot?" Manfred asked, pointing to a miniscule speck of pink on an otherwise well-done burger.

"No offense, sir-dude, but that doesn't, like, constitute as undercooked."

"Not undercooked? What if I got a crippling case of food poisoning from that one undercooked portion and wasn't able to work as a result? Because unlike you, boy, my job is actually important. Do you know who I am?"

The man took a moment to analyze Manfred's appearance before becoming overcome with excitement and shaking the prosecutor's hand.

"Yeah, dude, I'd recognize you anywhere! But I never thought that I'd get to, like, meet you in person!"

"Well, it appears that _some_ members of the younger generation know greatness when they see it." Manfred smirked.

"Yeah, dude, you're my childhood hero! But I have a question…"

"Yes?"

"How do you, like, go out during the day?"

"What?" Manfred flashed the man a look of confusion.

"Yeah, 'cause you're Dracula and you die in the sun and stuff."

"Dra- I am NOT Dracula! I am Manfred von Karma, the perfect prosecutor who has never lost a trial in over 30 years!"

"Manfred von Whozits… Never heard of ya, dude."

"Well, you'll know about me after tonight. Now compensate me for my burger or I will sue and claim ownership of this hole-in-the-wall dump in ten minutes flat!"

The manager put his arms out in front of him. "Chill, dude, chill! If you're gonna get this way, I'll have the burger taken off your check. Heck, I'll even, like, make your entire table's meals free."

"Normally, I would accept your offer and walk away, but after that Dracula comment, I will not be so merciful." Manfred snapped his fingers. "Bring me the bill!"

The manager shot Manfred a look of confusion. "What?"

"Did I stutter? Bring me the bill!"

The manager quickly rushed into the kitchen and returned with the check for Manfred's table, which the prosecutor proceeded to read over.

"I will be paying the full amount." Manfred snapped his fingers. "Miles, go out to the Mercedes and bring me The Jug!"

Upon hearing this request, Edgeworth's eyes widened. "No, not The Jug, sir!"

"Yes, Miles, The Jug! Here are the keys to the Mercedes. Don't keep me waiting." Manfred handed Edgeworth the keys to their vehicle before the adolescent rushed out of the building.

"Yeah! Punish him, Papa! No mercy for the foolishly foolish fool!" Franziska cheered as she cracked her riding crop.

Gant grabbed onto Manfred's arm. "Have mercy, Manny, he's just a man! Have a heart!"

The veteran prosecutor pushed his childhood friend off of him. "Oh, I heart, Gant, and it wants retribution!"

"Am I, like, missing something? What's 'The Jug'?" The server asked.

Suddenly, Edgeworth, who was struggling to carry a 10-gallon jug filled to the brim with pennies, entered the building and slammed the large container on the table.

"Behold, the greatest weapon of vengeance in the von Karma arsenal: The Jug!" Manfred bellowed, gesturing to the container in all its glory.

"Is that, like, a jug filled with pennies?" The manager asked with a tone of hesitation as he pointed to The Jug.

"You're not as foolish as you look, boy." Manfred sneered. "I'm going to be paying all $54.72 of this bill… in pennies!"

"You're insane, dude!" The manager proclaimed with terror in his voice as he tried to take a step back, but was stopped by Manfred grabbing his arms.

"I am not insane, I'm perfect. Now you're going to stay here as I count out all 5,472 pennies!" Manfred reached into the jug and started placing pennies on the table. "One penny, two pennies, three pennies, four pennies…"

* * *

About 45 minutes later, Manfred's group and Gant left the restaurant and entered the parking lot.

"Sir, did you really have to be so cruel to that manager?" Edgeworth asked, earning himself a lash from Franziska's riding crop.

"Papa's actions were perfectly warranted, Miles Edgeworth! That foolish man wronged Papa and needed to be punished accordingly! How else would he learn not to mess with us?"

"I'm not saying that he was in the right, but I think that driving the man to tears towards the end was pushing things a bit far. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Miles, only undisciplined, weak-minded fools cry. He deserves no pity." Manfred coldly replied.

Gant clasped his hands together. "Well, with the exception of the delay created by The Jug, I had a good time! So, how's about we keep the party rolling and go out for a night on the town?"

Manfred glowered at Gant. "No."

"Alright, I understand, Manny. Say, how about sometime next week you, Blaisie, and I get together to discuss our Halloween costumes for the Precinct Halloween Bash? I was thinking that we go as classic horror movie villains: me as the Creature from the Black Lagoon, Blaisie as Freddy Krueger, and you as Dracula. Heck, from what I've seen tonight, you don't even have to dress up- just go in your normal clothes!"

"…Leave, Gant. Now!" Manfred bellowed as he slammed the end of his cane on the ground.

"You don't have to tell me twice. Bye Manny, bye Worthy, bye Franny-Banany!" Gant waved as he entered his mustang and quickly left the parking lot."

Manfred pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank Santa. I never thought that we'd be rid of him…"

"So Papa, what are we goin to do now? Are we going back to the beach house?" Franziska asked.

"And sit around with that painting watching us? I think not. We're not returning to that place until we absolutely have to."

"So then what exactly _are_ we going to do, sir. This town has no libraries, museums, or theaters. It's as barren culturally as it is in cuisine!" Edgeworth complained.

Manfred put a firm hand on the maroon-cladded adolescent's shoulder. "Don't worry, Miles. I'll think of something…"


	5. The Stench of a Bad Evening

**A/N:** Not that many new characters introduced in this chapter, but here's the list:

 **L'Belle: 14**

 **Oldbag: As Old as Time Itself**

With that, I hope that you guys enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

Who doesn't love boardwalks? With their wide plethora of overpriced junk food, rigged carnival games, and street performers who make you scared to walk alone, they're like a miniature, child-friendly version of Vegas. But amidst the many screeching, sugar-high brats and disinterested parents moaning for coffee as they limp about like the undead, the von Karma family managed to maintain all the fun of a morgue as they calmly discussed their plans for the evening.

"Why do we have to go to the foolish boardwalk, Papa?" Franziska pouted with her arms crossed. "It's loud, has nothing to offer me, and full of people who are dead above the neck. If I wanted that kind of experience, then I'd spend the evening talking with Miles Edgeworth!" The young girl complained, pointing her riding crop at her glowering 'little' brother.

"Trust me, Franziska, I dislike boardwalks just as much as you do, but at least I have the decency to bite my tongue and not make this evening any worse by whining. And say what you will about my intellect, but at least _I'm_ capable of telling time." Edgeworth sneered, earning him the business end of Franziska's riding crop.

"What are you foolishly going on about, Miles Edgeworth!? I can tell time!" The Franziska objected.

"Then prove it. What time is it now?" Edgeworth asked as he showed Franziska his watch, which currently read 7:30 p.m.

"Um…Well… Um, it's… it's… it's…" Franziska stammered as she started bending her riding crop, her face growing noticeably redder and redder with embarrassment.

"I'm waiting…" The maroon-cladded adolescent sneered as he pointed to his watch, kneeling down so that his calm gaze could meet his adoptive sister's darting eyes.

"It's… Time for you to shut your foolishly foolish mouth!" Franziska snapped as she lashed her trusty weapon across Edgeworth's cheek, leaving a noticeable red line where it had struck.

But much to the silver-haired girl's irritation, her 'little' brother remained unfazed.

"Look, Franziska, if you can't tell time, then just admit it. I won't think any less of you and would be more than willing to help you learn."

"I can tell time, Miles Edgeworth, I just don't want to play along with your foolishness!" Franziska snarled.

"Well-"

Edgeworth was cut off by the booming thud of his mentor's cane hitting against the weathered wood they were standing on.

"Enough!" Manfred bellowed with a snap of his fingers. "It's either this or a round of miniature golf at The Mad Putter! Would you children prefer waiting in lines behind fools who don't know the basic rules of golf and, worse yet, play for _fun_?" The veteran prosecutor growled, spitting out the word 'fun' as if it was spoiled milk.

"No, sir." Edgeworth and Franziska groaned in unison.

"Then cease your complaining so that we can have a tolerable evening."

"Yes, sir." The young duo groaned once more.

Afterwards, Manfred and his pupils/children began walking down the boardwalk, eying the many stores and food stalls as they pondered how to spend their evening.

"Disgusting… Have these people no sense of style?" Manfred snorted in derision in regards to the third consecutive store exclusively selling t-shirts depicting celebrity caricatures, internet memes, and 'edgy', controversial statements geared towards the younger generation.

"I know what you mean, Papa. For some reason, the foolishly degenerate youths of today just can't seem to grasp how the cravat is the epitome of fashion. But then again, not everyone can be perfect like us." Franziska boasted, raising her nose in arrogance.

 _Funny, coming from a girl who's about half the age of the stores' targeted demographic._ Edgeworth thought to himself as a smirk spread across his face, earning him a whack from Mr. Riding Crop.

"Ow! I didn't even say anything!" Edgeworth growled as he rubbed his wounded forearm.

"No, but you were _thinking_ something foolish, if that foolish grin that you were wearing was of any indication." Franziska stated with a finger waggle. "Next time, try… Wait, what's all the foolish commotion over there about?" The silver-haired girl asked as she noticed a huge crowd of people forming in front of a small ice cream stand with a sign above it reading 'Bumsner's'.

"Bumsner's." Manfred curtly stated with a roll of his eyes.

"'Bumsner's'? What's that?" Franziska asked, cocking her head in confusion.

"An ice cream establishment that no von Karma would ever be caught dead at."

"I can understand your disdain towards miniature golf and graphic shirt stores, sir, but an ice cream stand?" Edgeworth questioned, prompting Manfred to slam his cane on the ground and flash him a fiery glare.

"Nonsense, Miles, I would not support that incompetent ice cream stand even if my life depended on it. The reason for this being their use of soft-serve ice cream, a product that is kept in dirty machines containing bacteria that causes brain damage, muscle loss, and even death."

"I find that hard to believe, sir. For if this was true, then why would the FDA allow such a harmful product to be sold to the public?" Edgeworth argued.

"You dare to defy me and my flawless reasoning…?" Manfred growled in a low tone with his arms crossed.

Edgeworth shook his head. "Not at all, sir. I'm just putting your teachings to good use. If your claim is true as you say, then you should have no issue in presenting evidence supporting it."

"I was told this information by my Uncle Erich when I was a boy. End of story." The veteran prosecutor curtly retorted.

"What kind of response is that? If an attorney were to use that sort of reasoning in court, you'd be the first to call them out on it." Edgeworth objected.

"Miles has a point, Papa." Franziska chimed in, prompting her father to respond with a slam of his cane to the ground.

"This does not concern you, girl." Manfred growled.

"S-Sorry, Papa." Franziska sullenly said, lowering her head in shame.

"…As for you, Miles, you're just like your father- quick to cry foul when things aren't going you're way. Tsk, tsk. I thought I raised you better than that…" Manfred wryly commented.

"I'm not crying foul, sir, I'm merely stating that one of the first things that you taught me was 'evidence is everything in a court of law'. Therefore, I cannot uphold the von Karma teachings by blindly accepting an undocumented testimony."

"Bah! This is no mere testimony, boy…" Manfred snapped his fingers. "This is the testimony of one bearing the perfect bloodline of the von Karma, making it more reliable than all possible evidence combined!"

"If that's the case, then you should have no issue in finding some tangible proof supporting your claim." The maroon-cladded adolescent calmly replied.

"Why, you little…" Manfred growled through clenched teeth as he reached into his pocket. "I ought to-"

"Hey, Manny!" Gant chirped, holding a chocolate-flavored ice cream cone as he walked over to the group. "What are you guys talking about?"

"You want tangible proof, Miles? There it is!" Manfred stated while gesturing to the detective. "Consume soft-serve and you'll live your life as a mere detective who has nothing better to do than follow me to the ends of the Earth!"

Gant let out a long sigh. "Not the soft-serve argument again, Manny..."

"Yes, the soft-serve argument, Gant. I need to inform Miles and Franziska of the harmful bacteria associated with it, lest their lives fall to ruin."

Gant chuckled and shook his head. "Manny, Manny, Manny… Why don't you cut the excuses and just tell the children the truth?"

"W-Wha… I have no idea what you're rambling on about?" Manfred stammered, a few drops of cold sweat trickling down his brow as he clenched his right shoulder.

"Manny, it's nothing to be ashamed about!" Gant cheerfully stated with a grin as he clasped his hands together. "A lot of people are lactose intolerant!"

Manfred winced back as if punched in the face. "You're delusional!"

"I think that the allergy notifications that were handed out for every class party when we were in school and every legal gala during our adult years beg to differ." Gant smirked.

For a few moments, there was a pregnant pause as Manfred tried his best to think of some way to get himself out of this mess, but before he could, Edgeworth broke the silence.

"Wait a minute, so the reason why we have never been allowed to have chocolate in the house, despite spending most of our time in one of the chocolate capitals of the world, is because _you_ can't have it? So all those documents showcasing how eating chocolate causes you to secrete a pheromone that attracts rabid bears are lies?"

Gant gasped. "Manny! Just what are you teaching these kids?"

"That you can achieve anything with perfect evidence. I'm doing these children a favor. Everyone knows that people who enjoy chocolate become overweight in their later years."

Upon hearing this statement, Gant gave Manfred one of his infamous stares for a solid minute before speaking.

"I happen to like chocolate, Manny…" Gant calmly stated with an undertone of agitation. "Are you calling me fat?"

"Well, you're no Slim Jim, that's for sure."

"That's not fat, Manny, that's muscle- muscle that I got from swimming!" Gant yelled as he shook his fist. "Sure, I have a bit of a sweet tooth, but at least I exercise! What's your workout routine, standing behind the prosecutor's bench? So if I want to go down to the boardwalk and enjoy some chocolate ice cream, then that's what I'm going to do!"

Normally, Manfred would be the type of person to perpetuate the argument, stating how unlike Gant, he actually had class and enjoy more sophisticated forms of physical activity, such as golf, cricket, and fencing. However, Gant was an entirely different case.

The orange-clad detective was a favorite in the legal world for not only his high success rate, but because he was one of the kindest, most patient, easygoing people on the force. If you asked him for $50, he'd give it to you without a second thought; or if a complete stranger wanted to host their birthday party at his house, he'd be setting up the punch bowl. Heck, whenever someone pranked him on April Fool's Day, he'd just laugh it off. But that doesn't mean that Gant was a pushover- far from it! Sure, it took a lot to anger him, but when he was angered, you'd best watch out, for Gant's rage was in a different league from his friends. While Manfred would show outright contempt for his target and Blaise would bully them like a grade-schooler before making them disappear, Gant would play mind games with his unfortunate foe- initially going on a huge tirade and then, a few hours later, calming down, acting like it was all forgotten. But Gant remembered, he always remembered, and those memories would surface in a variety of forms, ranging from minor- a passive-aggressive comment sprinkled into conversation, ordering pizzas and having them sent to the aggressor's address- to major- 'accidentally' orchestrating a police search of the offender's house, or, when dealing with prosecutors, allowing for some evidence to 'slip' his memory when consulting with the prosecutor, only to surface once in court, causing great embarrassment for the offender and the trial to be prolonged. And to make things worse, just like his friends, Gant could hold onto a grudge indefinitely.

So that is why, even though it went against every fiber of his being, Manfred chose to swallow his pride and apologize to the orange-cladded detective.

"Fine, fine. I get the point, chocolate is not all bad. Now can we please end this?" Manfred huffed as he crossed his arms, earning him another long stare from Gant.

"… Sure thing, Manny!" Gant chirped, his scowl quickly morphing into a grin as he clasped his hands together. "I can't stay mad at you! So, got anything planned for the evening?"

"Nothing in particular."

"Well, in that case, how about you and the kids join me in going to Sky-High?"

Edgeworth cocked his head in confusion. "Sky-High? I've never heard of any place by that name, Detective Gant."

"I'm surprised, Miles Edgeworth. You of all people should know what Sky-High is since it's another name for your sheer amount of foolishness." Franziska sneered.

"I'm sorry; I was under the impression that it was the term used to describe your overinflated ego." Edgeworth retorted, earning him a lash from his adoptive sister's riding crop.

"Congratulations, Miles Edgeworth, that last foolish comment of yours just made Sky-High even higher!" The silver-haired girl growled as she bent her beloved instrument of torture.

Manfred slammed his cane on the ground. "Both of you, cease your bickering at once or Sky-High will refer to how much you will be punished!"

"Yes, sir." Edgeworth and von Karma stated in unison.

"Actually, it's a game room, but its main selling point is its namesake. It's 50-stories off the ground, giving customers a breathtaking view of the beach. So, you guys wanna join me?"

 _Like we have any choice in the matter? If I accept, I get to suffer in some game room filled with noisy brats with an orange, grinning, ball chained to my ankle, but if I refuse, then it'll be the same as to former, only with that foolish detective essentially kidnapping me. If only there was some excuse I could use to not go up that… Of course! Once again, Gregory Edgeworth's murder works in my favor._

"I'm sorry, Gant. We would love to accompany you to your game room, but Miles has a fear of elevators, and it would be an arduous task to climb up all those stairs. So in order to not leave the boy feeling left out, Franziska and I will stay with him. But please, don't let that keep you from having fun." Manfred stated in a sullen tone, tilting his head sown to make his ruse all the more believable.

"Aw, that's too bad. And here I was looking forward to having some fun with you guys…" Gant bemoaned, fiddling with his hair before slowly walking off.

However, before Gant was out of earshot…

"Wait, Detective Gant!" Edgeworth shouted, prompting the detective to turn around and walk back to the group.

"Yeah, Worthy?"

"Don't let me get in the way of your and Mr. von Karma's evening. Take Franziska and enjoy your time at the game room without me."

 _Curse you, Edgeworth! Why must you defy me so? Is it in your damn attorney genes to make my life a living hell?!_ Manfred internally fumed, his eyes to bugging out as his plan- which was so close to fruition- was falling apart.

"That's awfully nice of you, Worthy. But what about you?"

"Don't worry, Detective Gant." Edgeworth said with a dignified bow. "I'll entertain myself by walking around the boardwalk at my own leisure."

"Objection!" Manfred bellowed. "Miles, you are too young to be left alone in public."

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm 16. If I'm old enough to drive and go with you to crime scenes and interrogations, then I'm old enough to be by myself on a boardwalk."

"Yes, but what if someone kidnaps you? By the time we'd find out, you could very well be long gone, you're flesh being used as a windbreaker."

"In that case, I'll watch over Miles Edgeworth! That way, if any fools try to lay a finger on him…" Franziska cracked her riding crop. "They'll wish they hadn't!"

"See, Manny? The kids are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves! Now, we'll meet you two back here in an hour, which is plenty of time for you to have all sorts of fun! But don't get too carried away, or I'll be seeing you sooner under much different circumstances." Gant joked before grabbing the veteran prosecutor's arm and rushing off in the direction of the game room.

* * *

After what felt like an eternity in an elevator with a teenager wearing a cologne noxious enough to kill the dead, Manfred burst out of the confined space gasping for air as if he was being drowned.

"*Wheeze!* *Wheeze!* *Wheeze..!* My lungs…! They're on fire! What putrid concoction from the bowls of Tartarus was that!?" Manfred wailed as he fell to his knees. Though fortunately for the veteran prosecutor, Gant was right behind him to help him back in his feet.

At that moment, the boy who was on the elevator with Manfred and Gant stormed over to the duo, and upon closer inspection of the lad, they winced in shock.

Manfred and Gant were seasoned professionals, having seen many sights that would drive lesser men to overpriced therapists- mangled corpses, unhinged defendants, disturbing witnesses… You name it, the two men saw it. However, no amount of experience could prepare them for the adolescent standing before them.

The teen's appearance looked as if someone took an Abercrombie and Finch catalogue, threw it in a blender with a copy of Vogue, and hit frappe. The lad's face was covered in so much powder that his skin looked as pale as a polar bear in a blizzard, only being topped by his bleach-white hair that was styled in a bob cut. But the real attention grabber was his clothes- an outfit that would give Liberace a run for his money- which consisted of a green beret, a goose pelt that he wore around his neck in a similar fashion to how one would wear a sweater at a country club, a gripping, sleeveless, neon-pink shirt with two fishnet openings exposing his nipples, skin-tight, purple leather pants, and yellow wooden clogs that look as if they were stolen from the Keebler Elf's closet.

"Excuse me, but THIS cologne that I'm wearing, L'eau de Merde, is a very elegant, EXPENSIVE blend directly imported from Paris!" The teen yelled in the most flamboyantly condescending voice that either Manfred or Gant had ever heard in their lives. "Though I wouldn't expect YOU to understand fashion! Tell me, where did you get that ratty outfit of yours, Dracula's corpse? Scratch that, not even Nosferatu would be caught in something so HIDEOUSLY bland!" The boy joked, covering his mouth with the tips of his fingers as he let out a refined, condescending snigger.

 _I swear, the next person that compares me to Dracula is getting a wooden steak through their still-beating heart!_ "And where did you get that noxious cologne from, a toilet?" Manfred angrily sneered.

"I will have you KNOW, you decrepit FOSSIL, that L'eau de Merde is the epitome of the fashion world, renowned for its ability to drive both men and women MAD!" The teen boasted.

"Yeah, mad with the desire to slice their noses off as soon as humanly possible." Manfred retorted. "Similar to how I want to stab my eyes out with a pen after looking at you, you garish abomination!"

The adolescent let out an overdramatic gasp, putting a hand to his chest as if he had been shot through the heart.

"How DARE you!? I will have you know that I have been voted _Most Fashionable_ at my school for TWO years running!"

"In my opinion, the tittle of _Most Fashionably Impaired_ would be more appropriate." Manfred wryly stated with crossed arms.

"Well, I NEVER… One of these days, I'm going to become a PREMIER fashion designer, and when that day comes, you will RUE the monument that you crossed Florent L'Belle!"

"L'Belle? An ironic name, considering that you are the exact opposite of beautiful."

Finally reaching his breaking point, Florent whipped out his bottle of L'eau de Merde and sprayed it in Manfred's face, causing the prosecutor to fall to the ground screaming as he gripped his eyes and flailed his legs, like an infant on a changing table.

"Serves you RIGHT, you unstylish BOAR!" Florent huffed before sauntering away with a walk that looked like Henery Hawk trying to grip a stick with his derriere.

"You alright, Manny?" Gant asked as he helped his friend back up.

"*Cough!* *Cough!* I got some in my mouth! Whoever designed that product should be tried with crimes against humanity!"

"Perhaps with a little digging, that can be arranged. But for now, let's just enjoy the game room."

"Fine…." Manfred groaned. "It's not like this evening can get any worse."

* * *

Despite how much Manfred didn't want to be at the game room, he couldn't deny that its aesthetics weren't half bad. For unlike other arcades, which usually had a rustic feel and a very cluttered layout that didn't bode well with crowds, Sky-High had the appearance of a stereotypical old-time casino- bright red carpeting, atmospheric lighting, and soothing, yet jazzy, music playing- and a very open layout. Essentially, the arcade was one big circle, with the games against the wall of the half closest to the entrance, the prize counter and change machines right in the center, and a large, empty space sandwiched in-between. But while the place wasn't big on the game room aspect, it more than compensated for it with its namesake. On the far side half of the room, the wall was one big window, allowing patrons to gaze at the lovely beachside view for a by-the-minute fee while also having the option to buy from a wide variety of desserts, ranging from pudding and ice cream to more sophisticated items, like fruit tarts and sorbet.

While there were plenty of games that were on the more modern side of things, such as flight simulators and first-person shooters, Manfred and Gant, being from a simpler time, kept to the classics with a casual game of skee ball- that is, casual for Gant and a competition of life and death for Manfred.

"400 points! Pretty good for a first round, eh Manny?" Gant jovially asked as he looked up at the scoreboard after he rolled his ninth and final ball.

"Pathetic! You didn't even reach half of the maximum amount of points." Manfred scoffed, waving his friend's accomplishment as it was nothing.

"Calm down, Manny. This isn't a competition, we're here to have fun!" Gant chirped as he clasped his hands together.

"Your last statement was an oxymoron…" Manfred stated as he inserted four quarters into the machine, resetting the scoreboard and causing nine smooth, plastic balls to roll out, before snapping his fingers. "Brace yourself, Gant, as you bear witness to perfection in skee ball-form!"

Manfred picked up a ball, cupped it in his hands like one would a bowling ball, and rolled it down the lane with a level of smoothness and precision found only in machines where it landed in one of the 100-point holes.

"Good job, Manny!"

"Of course. What else would you expect from the perfect prosecutor. Manfred stoically boasted with crossed arms.

The veteran prosecutor then went on to mirror his perfect first roll seven more times, bringing his score up to 800. However, the ninth and final ball was far from flawless.

Manfred set up for the ball just as he had done with the others before it, but when he actually executed the roll, it all fell apart when, on his upswing, a burning, searing pain shot through his right shoulder. The bullet that Manfred kept hidden, a never-ending reminder of his hatred for both Edgeworth and his father, decided to punish him, as if possessed by Greggory's vengeful spirit, by inflicting a jolt of pain powerful enough to cause the infamous prosecutor's arm too jerk back, sending the ball flying right into the ten-point hole.

"Mulligan! I had a pain in my shoulder that threw off my last throw! I demand a do-over!" Manfred growled as he slammed his fist on the machine

Gant flashed his friend one of his stares. "Manny, it's okay to choke up once in a while, you don't have to go making up excuses or taking your anger out on the poor machine."

"But-But-But…" Manfred stammered as Gant pushed him away from the machine.

"Let's go play something else to calm your nerves. But what to play…?" Gant fiddled with his hair as he looked around the arcade before going over to a small space where a crowd was starting to gather.

"Hey, little guy, what's all the hubbub about?" Gant jovially asked a young boy who was trying to squirm his way into the crowd.

"You didn't hear? This place just got the new Whackhim Brother's _Business Mole_ game!" The lad shrieked with excitement, a grin plastered on his face that quickly morphed into an irritated scowl upon noticing the older gentlemen's lack of reaction. "What? You never heard of Mite Business Mole, the greatest cartoon character to ever live? Do you geezers live under a rock or something?"

"No, we actually have lives and can't afford to spend all day picking our noses and eating them in front of a television, boy." Manfred wryly commented.

"Manny, he's only a child. Be nice…!" Gant said, flashing Manfred a stern look before redirecting his attention to the lad with a grin. "Well, that explains the kids, but what about all the adults?"

"Them? They're here because this place is celebrating the game's release by holding a contest: first person to score 10,000 points gets a thousand dollars. Stupid adults… I just wanna play the game!" The boy pouted.

"Gant, I'm playing this game." Manfred spontaneously proclaimed.

The detective winced back with a look of shock on his face. "Am I hearing thing? Did you, Manny von Karma, Mr. Perpetually-Serious, say that you actually _want_ to play a game?"

"Yes."

"You alright, Manny? Do you feel a fever coming on?" Gant asked with a worried tone as he touched his hand to Manfred's forehead.

"Get off of me, Gant!" Manfred snapped as he swat away the detective's hand. "I only want to play this game so that I can win that $1,000. If I have to suffer at this santaforsaken vacation town, then I should at least be compensated."

"That's the spirit, Manny!" Gant remarked as he slapped his friend on the back. "Way to make lemonade out of lemons!"

"However, the only thing standing in my way of my victory is this sea of people." Manfred stated, gesturing to the large group of adults and children swarming the machine.

"Just leave it to me…"

With his badge held out, Gant was able to walk through the crowd of people with Manfred by his side up to the front of the line, where they saw a young teenage boy with black, spikey hair standing in front of a large-scale version of whack-a-mole where he was bemoaning his pitiful score of 500.

"Move it, boy. It's my turn." Manfred curtly stated as he pushed the lad off to the side with his cane and inserted the required money into the machine and hit _start_ , causing a mole wearing black, square-rimmed glasses, a matching fedora, a grey suit, and a red tie to pop out of one of the holes as music that would be appropriate for a cartoon played.

Manfred von Karma always bragged about his immense emotional control. He was fully aware of his actions, only doing what his logic dictated was appropriate, and could never understand people who used the excuse that their emotions got the best of them. Utter rubbish! How could one's logic be deterred by mere hormones? But at that moment, all those thoughts were pushed out of the veteran prosecutor's head and replaced with blind fury as he saw his old arch enemy, Gregory Edgeworth, in mole-form, prompting him to swiftly beat it down with the foam hammer on the machine.

However, as is the case with all games of whack-a-mole, as soon as that first mole was beat down, two more rose up to take its place, furthering Manfred's anger by reminding him of how even though he soundly defeated Gregory at Master's Mansion, the pesky attorney rose up in court to present that damn recording and give him his first penalty. And then afterwards, how Miles shot him in shoulder when he was merely passing by. And how even after Gregory died, his image and defiant spirit lived on in the boy, who dared to oppose him with regards to the existence of Santa and the evils of soft-serve. Oh, but no matter how much the Edgeworth name was a thorn in his side, all that suffering would be worth it come December 28th, 2016, when Miles would be put on death row for not only killing Robert Hammond, but for patricide. And the best part would be that Manfred would pull a few strings so that he could be the prosecutor for the case. Sending the son of his most hated enemy, the boy that he had spent many years transforming into a near-perfect, heartless prosecutor and who saw _him_ as a father, to his doom by his hand… It would be like Christmas all over again. Celebrations would definitely be in order, but he would wait for Edgeworth's execution to be done with. That way, he could get the body and-

"Manny!" Gant yelled, snapping Manfred out of his thoughts. "Manny, you alright?"

"Wha… What happened?" The veteran prosecutor asked as he rubbed his forehead.

"The game's over, Manny. And guess what? You won the contest! See?" The detective stated as he pointed to the scoreboard, which read 13,582. "Though I shouldn't be so surprised. Your arms were like greased lightning and not a single mole went unnoticed. It was like you wanted nothing more than to brutally kill each and every last one of them!"

"What can I say? I'm perfection incarnate." Manfred nonchalantly remarked, making sure that no one, not even Gant, would learn of his dark thoughts and desires.

Suddenly, a loud alarm went off, prompting a person wearing a Mite Business Mole costume to push their way through the crowd and rush over to Manfred.

"What do you want?" Manfred asked, to which the costumed person responded to by handing him a stack of money. "Oh right, thank you."

Manfred accepted the money before leaving the table with Gant.

"So, Manny, any other games…" Gant paused as he glanced behind him, noticing the person in the Mite costume following them with the intense focus of a horror movie villain.

"What is it, Gant? You know how much I hate incomplete questions." The veteran prosecutor said with a tone of irritation.

"Is just me, or is the guy in the costume following us?"

"It's probably just your imagination, but if it'll make you feel better, we'll hasten our pace."

The duo began walking faster, but much to Gant's vexation, the character sped up after them.

"Not today, psycho mole!" Gant nervously barked before grabbing Manfred's arm and sprinting both of them into the exit elevator and closed the door.

"Damn it, Gant, I'm 57! I'm too old for this kind of nonsense!" Manfred complained as he straightened his cravat.

"Sorry, Manny, but I'm not dying in some game room! If I'm dying anywhere, it's in the pool!" Gant stated as his breath became shallow. "What kind of psycho do you think we're dealing with? Escaped criminal that wants revenge? A just-fired madman who's thirsty for the blood of innocents? … A timeshare salesperson?" The detective nervously pondered, the terror in his voice especially showing for the lattermost possibility.

Manfred slammed his cane on Gant's foot, snapping him out of his panic spell.

"Get a hold of yourself, man! For Santa's sake, you're a trained detective, not some whimpering defense attorney!"

"You don't understand, Manny. You can spend years training, honing your body and mind, but the second you come face-to-face with a psycho, all that gets thrown out the window and you enter _their_ world. You ever see horror movies? The cop's always the second person to get axed!"

"This isn't a horror movie, Gant, this is real life." Even if that mascot was after us, which I highly doubt, with my stun gun and your self-defense training, we could easily take them."

Gant breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, I'm feeling much better now."

"Good. Now while we're here, let's leave this-" The veteran prosecutor is interrupted as the elevator door opened, revealing the costumed person.

"However, before Manfred and Gant could get to the bottom of things…

"Manfred von Karma, Damon Gant?" The voice asked, causing the infamous prosecutor's eyes to bug out as he became the terrified member of the duo.

"That voice…! It can't be…!" Manfred backed himself against the elevator's back wall as he began to break out in a cold sweat.

"Manfred, that's no way to talk to your…" The person took off their costumes head to reveal her identity: Wendy Oldbag. "old kindergarten teacher."

"You're still alive!? How old are you!?" Manfred shrieked.

"Whippersnapper!" Oldbag fumed as she glared at the infamous prosecutor with the intensity of a thousand suns. "You never ask a woman for her age! The nerve of kids these days…!"

"Hi, Ms. Oldbag!" Gant chirped, all of his previous fears completely dispelled.

"Well, hello to you, Damon!" Oldbag said with a reserved wave. "It's good to see that at least one of my former students is happy to see me." The elderly woman commented as she quickly flashed Manfred a glare. "My, how both of you have grown…! So, how's life been treating you, boys?"

Manfred crossed his arms, becoming even more antisocial than usual in an attempt to snuff out any further conversation. But unfortunately for him, Gant was more than happy to talk for the both of them.

"Well, I'm an acclaimed detective for the L.A.P.D., and Manny here's an international prosecutor. So I'd say that we're doing pretty well."

"That's wonderful!" Oldbag exclaimed. "I always knew you two would make something of yourselves! You were always such wonderful students- following all the rules, doing all your work, cleaning up your messes…"

"Well, we had a wonderful teacher." Gant said as Manfred groaned and rolled his eyes, disgusted by how his childhood friend had morphed into a goody-goody teacher's pet.

"Oh Damon, you were always such the charmer! Your wife should thank her lucky stars that she caught such a fine specimen of a man."

"Actually, Ms. Oldbag, I never married."

"Is that so…?" Oldbag stated as she started slowly rubbing her finger up and down the detective's chest. "Don't you get… lonely?"

"Uh, not really..." Gant awkwardly said, taking a step back to escape the elderly woman's reach. "See, I dedicate my time to my work and swimming, so a wife would only serve to slow me down. Plus, if I ever need company, I can always spend time with Manny and Blaisie since-"

"Blaise…!" Oldbag fumed through clenched teeth, her face reddening like a tomatoe. "Just the mere mention of that ragamuffin's name makes my blood boil! That brat was the spawn of Satan, pranking me at every opportunity- putting salt in my coffee, giving my telephone number to every telemarketer in the state, cutting my car's breaks…! What's that little hoodlum up to these days? Trucker? Used car salesman? Red Cross phone operator?"

"Nope, he's the Chief Prosecutor."

"Typical! How is it that all the hooligans get all the power and wealth while good, hardworking people are always on the bottom of the totem pole? I blame modern media, brainwashing society into thinking that it's cool to be a bad boy who plays by his own rules! Why, back in my day, if you were kind and respectful to others, they'd be kind and respectful back to you, and if you were a troublemaker, you were thrown in jail. Nowadays, if you're dishonest, you're celebrated! Cheat on a test? You get a sticker! Rob a bank? You get a cookie! Kill 50 people and burn down an orphanage? You get a national holiday in your honor and a statue in the park! What is this world-"

"Sorry, to interrupt you, Ms. Oldbag, but I'm curious about what you're doing nowadays. Still teaching?" Gant asked, ingeniously stopping the crotchety woman's tirade with one of the few things that she loved more than ranting about the things she hated: herself.

"Unfortunately, no. I was fired after a parent complained that my 'rants' crushed their poor child's self-esteem. Why, back in _my_ day, when a teacher broke us down, we didn't run to our parents for help, we rose above it and built ourselves back up and became stronger because of it. We built character!"

"Sorry to hear about that." Gant commented as he played with his hair. "So is this your new job?"

"Oh no, dearie, this is just a part-time gig. My real job's being a security guard at Global Studios where I get to live out my dream of pursuing all the handsome movie stars that I've adored from afar for so many years. Sadly, I'm a bit late in the game to see the likes of John Wayne and Cary Grant, but there's a new star that blows them out of the water: Jack Hammer. The man is a gift from Heaven- he has the body of an Adonis, the voice of an angel, and the soft hair of a teacup poodle! Oh, Jacky-poo, one day we will be toge-"

"Manny, she fantasizing! Run!" Gant wailed as Manfred repeatedly jabbed the elevator's down- button, causing the door to close.

"Whippersnappers! It's rude to interrupt your elders! I ought to teach you a thing or two!" Oldbag yelled, but unfortunately for her, the duo were already out of her reach.

* * *

Manfred and Gant, weary from their Oldbag ordeal, slowly made their way to where they'd meet up with the kids.

"Oh God, Manny! I'm having bad flashbacks of how Oldbag would spend story time telling us why guys like Rock Hudson and Eisenhower were God's gift to humanity and why they should have been dating her!" Gant bemoaned with a shudder.

"Don't expect any sympathy from me. _You're_ the one who started socializing with her. Had you been like me and kept your mouth shut, she would have just gone away." Manfred retorted.

"When had that woman ever just gone away?"

"Point taken."

"Plus, you know that being silent in the face of conversation goes against my nature! I was thinking that you'd get us out of there by pressing the down-button sooner."

"This is Oldbag we're talking about, Gant. If we tried to escape when she wasn't fantasizing about men, she would have jumped in the elevator before the door could close, and knowing her, not even my stun gun would have saved us.

"Yeah…" Gant said, playing with his hair, before a grin spread across his face. "But it's not all bad. You did win that sweet one grand, after all. So what do you plan on doing with it?"

"Putting it in savings."

"Manny, how is it that you can twist the courts in your favor and yet be the dullest person I know?"

"Hey, I'd rather be dull and financially sound than exciting and living out of a box."

Gant placed his arm around Manfred's shoulder. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to live life a little and have some fun with your money. After all, there are no pockets in Heaven."

"There are also no pants in Heaven, but you don't see me going out without a pair." Manfred retorted.

"Excuse me, fellows, but I couldn't help but overhear your little discussion…" An overweight, middle-aged man with a bald spot, a pony tail, and a five o'clock shadow, wearing a stained, white undershirt, neon-green sweat pants, and blue flip-flops, said as he stepped in front of the duo.

"And you are?" The veteran prosecutor asked.

"Sorry, how rude of me. I'm Tyler Stirr, but my friend's call me Ty, and I'm here to offer you a whole lot of fun for a small cost."

"In what? Wasting my time?" Manfred wryly replied, to which Ty replied to with an obviously-fake chuckle.

"Sharp tongue, eh? In that case, I'd better just get straight to the point. Follow me…"

The man led the duo over to a small booth containing several rows of milk bottles stacked in pyramid-form and a wide variety of plushies hanging on the wall.

"Welcome to my stall, Ty's Terrific Throw Fest! The rules are simple: I give you a baseball, and you try to knock down all the bottles. Succeed, and I'll give you one of the wonderful prizes hanging on the wall!" The stall owner entered the both. "So, wanna give it a try?"

"Waste my hard-earned money on some rigged boardwalk game for the chance to win a cheap stuffed animal? I think not. Come, Gant, we're leaving."

Manfred and Gant began to walk away, but before they could leave, the sleazy man threw out a hook more powerful than anything a fisherman could buy.

"Well, if you don't think that you've got what it takes…" Ty sneered, prompting Manfred to immediately turn around and march back to the booth.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" The prosecutor growled, slightly leaning forward in an attempt to intimidate the stall owner.

"Don't take it personally, sir. There's no shame in knowing one's limits. After all, no one's perfect."

"Bah! Do you know who I am? I am Manfred von Karma, a legendary prosecutor who has not lost a single case in over 30 years! There is nothing I can't accomplish- learn languages, write documents, train animals…" The infamous prosecutor snapped his fingers. "I can do it all!"

"I don't doubt you in the slightest, Mr. von Karma, honest. It's just that you look like you're getting up there in years, and your strength and coordination may not be up to snuff for a game like this. I mean, you're outfit's probably old enough to be my dad." Ty sneered, causing Manfred to grit his teeth as he slammed his fist on the counter.

"My age is of no limitation, and I will show you by winning your foolish little game without breaking a sweat!" The infamous prosecutor roared.

"Manny," Gant whispered in his friend's ear, "This guy's clearly a con man and the game is rigged. I've deal his kind all the time, and it will not end well for you if we stay."

"Bah! I do not need your warnings, Gant! I am not like those imperfect fools who suffer at these games, for I am a von Karma! Manfred scoffed as he pushed the detective away. "So, how much is it for a ball?"

"First one's free." Ty smirked as he handed Manfred a baseball. "You're on row #1. Good luck…!"

After much careful aiming, as he did when playing skee ball, Manfred threw the baseball with amazing precision, striking the stack of bottles square in the center. But alas, while practically all of the bottles were knocked over, the bottommost row stayed intact.

"Aw, too bad." Ty said in an obviously-fake sad voice, complete with pouty lip. "Wanna try again-only $2.50 a ball?"

Manfred slammed a $10 bill on the counter. "Four balls is all I need!"

"You're the boss…" The sleazy stall owner said as he gave Manfred four baseballs.

"Manny, I really think you should reconsider and walk away…" Gant said with a tone of caution.

"Stop treating me like a child, Gant! I have complete control of myself and can end this if I see that it is going nowhere."

* * *

Manfred had blown through all of the money that he had won that evening, yet was still unable to succeed in knocking down all the bottles. But even then, he refused to give up. So in order to continue his crusade while not dipping into his personal saving, the prosecutor offered his suit coat, shoes, cane, and even car as methods of payment. However, even with all that, allowing him to purchase 30,000 balls, Manfred was still unable to topple the accursed milk bottles.

"Manny, please stop! This isn't healthy!" Gant pleaded.

"Like I said before, I will stop when it I see that it's going nowhere! Stirr, another round of balls!" Manfred demanded.

"And how are you going to pay me? All you have left are your shirt and pants, and we'd all be paying the price if I took those from you."

"How many balls would a beach house get me?" Manfred asked as he put the deed to Blaise's beach house on the counter.

"Selling Blaisie's beach house…!?" Gant proclaimed before flashing the infamous prosecutor one of his stares, his face becoming cold and serious. "Manfred, you have a problem and you need help."

"Bah! I have no problem!"

Gant grabbed Manfred's shoulder and got in his face. "Look at yourself, Manfred! You have no suit, no shoes, and your selling your friend's property behind his back! If this isn't a problem, then I don't know what is!"

Manfred pushed his friend off of him. "Minor setbacks, that's all these are! I promise you, my victory is nigh!"

* * *

Later, Manfred- who is walking with his arms slightly outstretched in order to balance himself and is holding a smiling, stuffed banana that has black dreadlocks and a matching goatee and is wearing a Rastafarian tam- and Gant resume their trip back to the area where they planned to meet up with the kids.

"Words do not describe how disappointed I am with you right now, Manny." Gant coldly remarked, his face devoid of emotion.

"What's there to be disappointed about? I won, didn't I?" Manfred smirked, gesturing to his Rastafarian banana.

The detective rolled his eyes. "Yes, Manny, and all it cost you was one grand, your suit, your shoes, your ability to walk, your car, and where you're staying for the night."

"I win wars, not battles, Gant. These setbacks are nothing compared to my ultimate victory! As for your other concerns, I can still walk, albeit quite limited, without my cane, and Stirr is allowing me and the kids to stay at the beach house until tomorrow morning, which is when I'm leaving. So when that time comes, the beach house is Blaise's issue"

"That's cold, Manny. Blaisie may not be the nicest guy, but he doesn't deserve this kind of betrayal."

"Blaise gave me my only penalty over something that we've both been doing for years. If anything, I'm getting even." Manfred retorted. "But please, don't breath a word about this evening to anyone."

Gant let out an exasperated sigh. "… Fine. But I'm doing this as your friend, not because I support your actions."

* * *

When Manfred and Gant finally reunited with Edgeworth and Franziska, the latter wasted no time in asking about her father's altered appearance.

"Papa, where's your coat? And for that matter, where are your cane and shoes?"

"I was robbed by a band of filthy defense attorneys. Gant and I tried to fight them off, but their numbers were too great and their tactics too cowardly." Manfred curtly responded.

"So did Detective Gant try to arrest them, or did you at least call the police?" Edgeworth asked with a perplexed look on his face.

"Thing is, Worthy, they were so quick, that by the time we realized what was going on, they were long gone. So we don't have any information on their appearances to file a report. And even if we could, the incident would be a massive blow to Manny's reputation. It'd be like chopping off an eagle's wings and having it try to fly- very sad, and very messy… That's why Manny and I are just going to let this incident slide."

"Even though I don't agree with your decision, I trust your and Mr. von Karma's judgement. So, sir, are we going to call it a day and return to the beach house?"

"Yes, Miles, but unfortunately, those blasted attorneys stole my car keys, so we're going to be riding with…" Manfred groaned as he glanced at the grinning detective. "Gant."

"Don't worry, kids, I'll get you back to Blaisie's beach house nice and quick. But before that, we're going to be making a quick stop…"


	6. Edgey Daycare

**A/N:** Here are the ages of the characters introduced in this chapter.

 **Lana: 21**

 **Mia: 19**

 **Hotti/Hickfield: Unknown**

 **Larry: 15**

* * *

"I can't believe it, Miles Edgeworth! All these years, I thought that I was genetically perfect, but I'm really just some freak of nature!" Franziska bemoaned as she and Edgeworth made their way down the boardwalk.

"Your father is lactose intolerant, Franziska. It's not the end of the world." The maroon-cladded adolescent calmly responded, earning him a painful lash from his adoptive sister's riding crop.

"That's easy for you to say, Miles Edgeworth! You have the blood of a defense attorney- you're already doomed for a life of mediocrity. But as for me, I'm the descendent of a long line of powerful, perfect prosecutors, allowing me to follow their perfect path to greatness. But now…!" Franziska growled as she bent her riding crop. "Now, I'm half lactose intolerant!"

"You can't be half lactose intolerant, Franziska, you either are or aren't."

"Well, I may not have Papa's curse, but what about _my_ descendants? Papa's 99-percent perfect DNA is in me and I'll run the risk of passing said flaw onto them. The von Karma line is doomed, Miles Edgeworth! DOOMED!" The silver-haired girl wailed at the top her lungs, earning her strange looks from several concerned boardwalk patrons.

"Franziska, please, you're making a scene." Edgeworth whispered, his cheeks becoming slightly red with embarrassment.

"I can't help it, Miles Edgeworth! If Papa lied to us about him being completely perfect, what else is he hiding from us? Do we really have to wait an hour after we eat before swimming? Is there really a man in the ceiling watching us and will kidnap us if we receive grades that are less than perfect? Am I even Papa's real daughter?!"

"Now you're just being ridiculous." Edgeworth huffed with a roll of his eyes. "Think about this logically, Franziska. Do you really think that Mr. von Karma would bother raising you if you weren't his biological child?"

"He's raising you, isn't he? And what's ironic is that Papa likes you, the son of his most despised enemy, more than me, his real daughter!" Franziska angrily retorted with a venomous tone.

Upon hearing his sister's comment, Edgeworth reeled back in shock, unsure as to whether or not his ears had betrayed him.

"What house are you living in?! Mr. von Karma acts like I'm some robot of sorts, making me study a wide range of subjects- History, Latin, Accounting - with nary a break. And on the off chance I manage get some miniscule morsel of free time, your father makes me spend it playing sports like golf and cricket. Cricket, Franziska! I've been playing that blasted sport for three years now and all I know is that it's the convoluted English lovechild of baseball and bowling!"

Edgeworth angrily groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear, between that and him hiring Professor Glaise as my English and Business Etiquette tutor, it feels like Mr. von Karma is trying to turn me into a Brit, not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. The English are a sophisticated people with a rich culture and history, but I'm an American who's living in Germany, I have enough cultural confusion as it is!"

"Quit your foolish complaining, Miles Edgeworth! Ms. Angela is a wonderful woman!" Franziska scolded with a lash of her riding crop. "You should feel thankful that Papa cares and thinks highly enough of you to push you so hard! Meanwhile, I get half of your workload and Papa criticizing me about how I'm not on par with you! Maybe if he'd work me as hard as you, he'd actually care about _my_ accomplishments for once!"

"Franziska, your father cares about your accomplishments just as much as mine. It's just-"

"Excuse me, children, but I couldn't help but notice that you both seem to be a bit on edge…" An overweight, middle-aged man with a bald spot, a pony tail, and a five o'clock shadow, wearing a stained, white undershirt, neon-green sweat pants, and blue flip-flops, said as he abruptly stepped in front of the duo. "Name's Tyler Stirr, the proud proprietor of one of the finest games to ever grace this here boardwalk. Wanna hear more?" The shady man asked in an enticing tone a he leaned a shoulder towards the aspiring prosecutors.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Stirr." Edgeworth calmly responded with crossed arms. "Now if you'll excuse us…"

The legal duo tried to walk around Ty, but no matter what they tried, the persistent game operator moved so that he squarely blocked their path.

"Please move out of our way, sir." The maroon-cladded adolescent groaned.

"Hey, hey, what's the rush, buddy? I'm just tryin' to be your friend, is all- give you a good time at Ty's Terrific Throw Fest."

"'Ty's Terrific Throw Fest'…?" Edgeworth said with a tone of obvious suspicion.

"Yeah, I give you a baseball and you throw it at a stack of bottles. Knock 'em all down and you win a prize. Pique your interest?" Ty asked with a grin.

"I don't know who you're trying to fool, Mr. Stirr, but you'd have to wake up pretty early in the morning to pull that trick on either me or my sister." Edgeworth sternly said, his grey eyes narrowing into a cold glare.

"I don't know that you're talking about, kid. I would _never_ try to deceive anyone." Ty said in the most innocent-sounding tone he could muster, which ironically enough made him come off as even seedier."

"Oh please! A grungy man on the boardwalk trying to persuade two young, seemingly innocent youth's into playing an obviously-rigged game… You're nothing but a filthy carney!" Edgeworth yelled, his arm jutted out with an accusing finger pointed at the shady booth operator.

"CARNEY…!" Ty roared, his face becoming quite red. "I ain't no carney, pinky, and I ain't rippin' nobody off! I'm just tryin' to make an honest buck by givin' folks the chance to have some fun!"

"Pinky!?" Edgeworth flinched, his eyes bugging out. "For your information, this suit is _maroon_ , a shade of red with only the smallest hint of pink! Though I wouldn't expect some ignorant gutter trash to understand the backward number on a 'Toys 4 You' sign!', let alone the nuance in shades of color!"

"Look, ya overgrown bottle of fruit punch, if you don't play a few rounds at my booth, things are going to get…" Ty cracked his knuckles as a sneer spread across his face. "problematic."

"I don't care if you rip open a portal to Hell and throw me in! Only a stubborn moron would play a carney's game!"

"Your choice, ruffles…!" The shady man growled as he grabbed Edgeworth by the collar of his jacket.

"Hey! Let go of my little brother, you foolish brute!" Franziska snarled as she bent her riding crop.

"And what'll you do if I don't, squirt? Cry about it to your daddy?" Ty sneered.

"No, THIS!" Franziska yelled as she hit Ty in the crotch with her ridding crop, causing the aggressive carney to let go of Edgeworth's jacket as he fell to the ground gasping for air.

"Thanks, Franziska." The adolescent commented as he straightened his collar.

"Don't think I did that because I like you or anything, Miles Edgeworth." The young girl said with a finger waggle. "I only helped you because no one bullies you but me."

As Edgeworth and Franziska walked away from the downed scam artist, the former looked back at the shady man and gave him a smirk.

"Thanks again for the offer, Mr. Stirr."

* * *

"So, what are we going to do, Miles Edgeworth?" Franziska asked as she and her adopted brother continued their walk.

"I don't know." Edgeworth responded with a shrug of his shoulders. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"What do you mean 'you don't know'!?" Franziska snapped, lashing Edgeworth's forearm with her infamous riding crop. "As a member of the von Karma family, it is your responsibility- nay, CIVIC DUTY- to be absolutely certain of your actions at all times!"

"I am certain of my actions, Franziska. Like I told Mr. von Karma and Detective Gant, I plan to walk around the boardwalk at my own leisure and that's exactly what I'm doing. So unless you have any specific ideas, that is how we're going to be spending our evening."

"This is unacceptable, Miles Edgeworth! How can you live with yourself?!"

"By taking in the sights and trying to block out your incessant screaming- a task that is getting harder with each passing second." Edgeworth sneered. "Perhaps if you learned to relax for even a solitary second, you could enjoy our little walk."

"I can't do that, Miles Edgeworth! Such foolishness is not in my nature! I need something to do, and I need it NOW!" Franziska pouted as she stomped her feet and clenched her fists, briefly moving away from the refined mannerisms that she was taught since birth and towards those more commonplace in nine year-olds.

"Like I said before, Franziska, if you want to do a specific activity, then _you_ have to suggest it."

"No, Miles Edgeworth, that responsibility falls squarely on your foolish shoulders." The young girl said with a finger waggle. "You foolishly got yourself into this foolish predicament, so it's only reasonable that you get yourself out."

Knowing that he'd be far more successful at teaching a brick wall how to walk than winning an argument with his younger sister, especially when she was wielding that godforsaken ridding crop, Edgeworth decided to submit to Franziska's wishes and started suggesting potential activities.

"Alright, fine… There are a multitude of game rooms on this boardwalk that are actually ground-level. So how about we go to a few of them and play some games?"

"And what types of games are found in game rooms, Little Brother? Chess? Scrabble? Yelling at defense attorneys?"

"Unfortunately, Franziska, those games don't really appeal to those outside of our household. Instead, they have other games like skee ball, where you try to try to roll a ball down a lane and into holes for points, and videogames."

"Videogames?" Franziska parroted, cocking her head in confusion. "What are those?"

"Oh right, you don't know about videogames…" Edgeworth stated, earning himself a lash from the young girl's riding crop.

"There is nothing that I don't know, Miles Edgeworth, just people who foolishly don't know how to explain things!"

 _A.k.a. you don't know._ "How to explain this…" The adolescent pondered, his eyes closed and fingers tapping against his crossed forearms. "You know how computers work, right- how they have a wide variety of programs?"

"What kind of fool do you take me for, Miles Edgeworth! Of course I know how computers work!" Franziska snarled as she lashed her 'little' brother once again with her trusty weapon.

"Ok, I admit that I left myself wide-open for that one… Regardless, a videogame is essentially a program that allows the user to interact with the environment of a virtual world. Take for example one of the most famed videogame series around: "Super Mario Bros.". The player takes control of the hero, a plumber appropriately named Mario Mario-"

"What foolishly lazy name!" Franziska scoffed.

"Yes, now the purpose of the game is quite simple: run through a series of levels, having Mario jump on any enemies that get in his way while leaping over bottomless gaps in the ground-"

"Hold it, Miles Edgeworth! Mario Mario is a plumber who kills his enemies… by jumping on them?"

"Yes."

"But as a plumber, wouldn't it be far easier to just use his tools to defend himself, like bludgeoning his foes with a wrench?"

"That would make sense, but Mario doesn't carry any tools with him."

"Then how does he do his job correctly if he doesn't have the proper tools on his person? That's like if Papa foolishly entered the courtroom without an autopsy report!"

"Well, Mario's main job is saving Princess Peach, so he doesn't really focus on plumbing."

"Then why is he foolishly referred to as a plumber if he doesn't do any plumbing!?" Franziska huffed, her face forming into an irritated scowl.

"Look, that's the backstory that Mario was given and is in no way pivotal in understanding the series as a whole."

"Well, it's a foolish backstory that is as foolish as Mario Mario's name! And what of his brother? The name of the series implies that Mario Mario has at least one other brother. But then again, judging by that foolish series' foolish logic, I wouldn't be surprised if Mario Mario is an only child or has a bunch of sisters."

"No, Franziska, Mario has a younger brother by the name of Luigi Mario, a tall, timid man who has the courtesy not to derail his sibling's explanation by questioning things that he has no control over." Edgeworth wryly retorted.

"Okay, Miles Edgeworth, continue on with your explanation. I'm listening."

"In short, Mario beats levels, enters a large, intimidating castle, defeats a dragon/turtle thing, and saves Princess Peach. The end." The maroon-cladded adolescent curtly explained.

"And then what happens?"

"Nothing. The game ends and you move on with your life."

"But don't you get anything for all your efforts?"

"It's more about the fun had during the experience than the actual final objective."

"What kind of foolish fools foolishly waste their time with a foolish activity that achieves absolutely nothing in long run?!" Franziska yelled, bending her riding crop in frustration.

"I don't know, Franziska, I really don't! Why do think I don't play video games on a regular basis?" Edgeworth answered with clear exasperation in his voice. "So I guess that all arcades are off the table…"

"Obviously." Franziska stated with crossed arms.

The maroon-cladded adolescent scanned the area, searching for any sort of option to placate his adoptive sister, when he saw a large Ferris wheel in the distance.

"Well, judging by that Ferris wheel-"

"No." Franziska curtly responded without a moment of hesitation.

"You don't even know what I was about to ask you? For all you know, you just turned down an offer to ridicule this boardwalk's legal team for their loophole-filled policies regarding Ferris wheel injuries."

"Don't play me for the fool, Miles Edgeworth!" Franziska growled. "We both know that you were foolishly about to suggest that we go to an amusement park, something that I'll do when defense attorneys become competent!"

"And may I ask, just why on earth do you have such a vehement hatred of amusement parks?"

"A fool like you couldn't hope to understand." Franziska huffed with crossed arms.

"Well, we won't know that for sure unless you tell me." Edgeworth said as he opened his arms to appear friendlier, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Come now, no need to be shy around your 'little' brother. It'll remain between just you and me."

"Promise you won't laugh?" Franziska asked, a look of nervous unease filling her grey eyes.

Edgeworth nodded. "Yes, I promise that I won't mock you. So, what is it?"

"I'm afraid of mimes." Franziska whispered in a tone too faint for her brother to hear.

"What was that, Franziska? Please speak up."

"I'm afraid of mimes." Franziska said at a slightly louder volume, but was still too quiet to be properly heard.

"Seriously, Franziska, how am I supposed to know what's bothering you if you refuse to tell-"

"I'm afraid of mimes! There! Now you know! Happy, Miles Edgeworth?!" Franziska screeched, her face become visibly red from a combination of anger and embarrassment.

For a brief moment, silence filled the air as the two siblings stared at each other, the younger with a look of fury and the older with a stoic expression that was morphing into the faintest of grins as he tried his best to fight back a snigger. Though despite Edgeworth's best efforts, Franziska noticed his amusement and chose to award the fool with pain delivered from the business end of her riding crop.

"You promised you wouldn't laugh, you foolish son of a defense attorney!" Franziska roared.

"I'm sorry, Franziska…" Edgeworth giggled with a hand over his face in a futile attempt to hide his laughter. "It's just… How could possibly be afraid of mimes?"

"Says the fool who's terrified of elevators!" Franziska angrily retorted.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not laughing because you're afraid, but because it's over something so ridiculous. Given how my father died on an elevator, my fear is perfectly justified. However, what reason could you possibly have to fear mute street performers?"

"It's just that they're unsettling, what with their excessive makeup, weird arm movements, and how they foolishly get in your personal space. Just thinking about it is enough to make me want to… ugh!" Franziska whimpered as she crossed her arms and shuddered. "And since mimes are commonplace in amusement parks and other places with plenty of children to traumatize, I don't want to go to the one here."

"Franziska…" Edgeworth calmly said, putting a firm hand on his sister's shoulder. "I highly doubt that there are mimes at a Los Angeles boardwalk amusement park."

"But what if you're wrong, Miles Edgeworth? What if the mimes are merely in hiding, waiting for me to drop my guard before knocking me out and taking me back to their nest where they'll suck out my soul!"

"You act like mimes are the spawns of Satan. They're just regular people like you or me. Granted, they prefer a rather abstract performing style, but that's no reason to fear them."

"Regardless, I'm not taking the risk by going to some foolish amusement park."

"Fine…" Edgeworth said with an exasperated sigh. "In that case, I have no other suggestions. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you tell me what you're in the mood to do so I have a bit more information to work with."

Franziska cocked her head to the side as she contemplated what she wanted to do. "Hmm… Well, I want to do something active, where I'm moving around and feel as if I'm actually getting stuff done…"

"Uh-huh…" Edgeworth said as he eyed his surroundings.

"And I desire to interact with people my own age to show them how I am superior to them in every way."

"Perfectly understandable…"

"And I'd like a fortress of sorts to firmly establish my authority over the foolish commoners."

After briefly scanning the area, a sinister grin spread across Edgeworth's face as he found a place that not only satisfied all of his sister's requests, but did so in a fashion that would make her so amusingly outraged that it'd be too good to pass up. Sure, he would probably get whipped to no end with that riding crop of hers, but it would be so worth it to see the look on Franziska's face.

"I know the perfect place."

"You do? Where?"

"Just follow me." Edgeworth said as he started to slowly walk away, but soon stopped upon noticing that Franziska wasn't following him. "Coming?"

"How do I know that this place will meet my perfect standards?"

"Oh, don't worry, 'Big' Sister, I have a feeling that this place will be very much to your liking."

* * *

"You lied, Miles Edgeworth! I hate this place!" Franziska screamed as she lashed her brother with her riding crop.

"What are you talking about, Franziska? It perfectly fulfils all of the specifications you gave me."

"Are you blind, Miles Edgeworth!? Does this look like the kind of place that I'd want to go to?!" Franziska yelled, gesturing to the area around her.

The 'area' being a playground on the beach close to the boardwalk consisting of a few small climbing walls, a tire swing, and a large, wooden pirate ship big enough to easily serve as a fort with a slide attached to the front.

"Well, let's go over your list of demands, shall we? First, you said that you wanted to move around and be active. So, given the fact that we're currently at a playground, a locale with the word 'play' in the name, the root of which comes from the Old English words 'plegian' and 'plega' which mean 'to exercise' and 'brisk movement', respectively, we can safely say that this area fulfils not only the first item, but also the second, given the demographic that frequents settings such as this. And as for the third and final requirement, cast your gaze upon that pirate ship." Edgeworth said as he gestured to the boat. "A fine fortress indeed, wouldn't you say?"

"What kind of respectable person in their right mind would use a pirate ship as a base of operation?"

"Pirates, Franziska, pirates…"

"Oh, please! No pirate has ever made any impact on society. I bet you can't even name one famous buccaneer."

A smirk spread across Edgeworth's face as he tapped the side of his head. "Black Beard, Long John Silver, Jack Sparrow…"

"You made your point, you arrogant fool! Regardless, I refuse to spend even a second more at this foolishly foolish playground filled with foolish children who engage in foolish tomfoolery!" Franziska yelled, her face growing red as she bent her riding crop as she started to walk away from the area.

However, the silver-haired girl was quickly stopped by Edgeworth grabbing her shoulder.

"Get your foolish hand off me, Miles Edgeworth!" Franziska snapped as she struggled in vain to free herself from her adopted brother's firm, iron-clad grip.

"No."

"What!" Franziska hissed. "Did you just refuse me?"

"Yes, Franziska, I did. And do you know why?"

"Because you're a fool."

"No." Edgeworth said with a shake of his head. "I don't ask for much, Franziska. All I wanted to do was engage in a nice, leisurely stroll down the boardwalk and take in the sites, something you didn't want any part of. So, being the reasonable man that I am, I made two suggestions- arcades and the amusement park- which you so hostilely rejected. Thus, when you gave me the outlines for your desired activities, I analyzed them and chose an area that fulfils all of them. Therefore, this is how we are spending our evenings until it is time to reunite with Mr. von Karma and Detective Gant: you playing while I sit on a nearby bench and catch up on my reading."

"But-but-but…" Franziska stuttered, trying her best to think of a perfect retort or some sharp-witted insult, but nothing that entered her mind could possibly combat her brother's airtight reasoning.

"No 'buts', Franziska. You reap what you sew. Now get in there and have some fun as you contemplate on how to better yourself as a person!" Edgeworth ordered as he pointed to the playground. "Oh, and don't think of trying to run away. Because if you do, I will not hesitate to see to it that you are properly punished."

"Oh, like _you_ have any power over _me_?" Franziska sneered, waggling a condescending finger at her brother.

"No, but your father does, and as you know, he is not one to give mercy to naughty little girls such as yourself."

"You always do this to me, Miles Edgeworth! You treat me like I'm a child!" Franziska pouted with a stomp of her foot.

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" The maroon-cladded adolescent smirked.

"Ugh! I don't have to take this! If you need me, I'm going to be in my pirate ship!" Franziska snarled as she angrily stomped into the vessel, the sound of her riding crop filling the air as several crying children rushed out screaming in terror.

* * *

About 10 or so minutes later, Edgeworth was starting to make some real progress in his studies, his face buried in his book as he became one with the legal information. However, that came to an abrupt end when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

Thinking that it was Franziska trying to object to the playground again, Edgeworth growled as he threw down his legal book on his lap and shot the person who dared to interrupt him an intense glare.

"Franziska, for the last time, I…"

Edgeworth's eyes widened as he noticed that the offender was not his younger sister, but rather an older woman, probably in her early 20's if her appearance was of any indication, with long, straight, light-brown hair reaching the mid-back of her Ivy University t-shirt. And even though he was sitting down, he could tell that she was about the same height as him, but she managed to be imposing in her own right with the sharp look in her teal eyes- the kind of look that said 'I will not take any crap from anyone' without the person even having to utter a single word. Edgeworth was all too familiar with that kind of look. However, what made this woman stand out was the warm smile she wore on her face, directly conflicting with the cold sharpness in her eyes, like a roaring flame placed next to a block of ice.

And while the adolescent aspiring prosecutor was confused by the look that this woman was giving him, he couldn't help but be mesmerized and drawn into it. Edgeworth didn't know whether it was the simple beauty of the woman herself, or merely due to the fact that the only girl he was ever allowed to be close to up until this point was Franziska, but he started to feel feelings that he had never felt before- feelings that made his cheeks turn red and for his normally-logical mind to be drawing blanks.

"Uh… H-Hi… Miles Edgeworth, my name is hello- er, I-I mean, hello, my name is Miles Edgeworth…" _Gah, what is wrong with me? It's not like me to get tongue-tied like this! Why am I getting so nervous? Why is my heart beating so fast? And is it feeling so hot all of a sudden?_

"Sorry to interrupt you, Miles, but do you mind doing me a favor?" The woman said as she nervously scratched the back of her neck, her smile turning into an anxious frown.

"What… What kind of favor?" Edgeworth nervously asked.

"I have final exams in a few days, so I scheduled to meet with a friend of mine here since we both decided to use today as a beach day. However, I have a little sister that I know would be bored out of her mind if I had her come with me and would prefer playing here. So I was wondering if you'd be willing to watch my her for about 30 minutes, give or take a few, while I study?" The woman asked with a desperate, pleading look on her face.

 _Think about this reasonably, Miles. You can barely handle one child, let alone two. Just politely tell her no and save yourself the pain._ "I'd be more than happy to." Edgeworth said with a confident grin. _What am I doing!? This goes against all the facets of logic and reason that I hold near and dear to my heart. But yet, I feel really… happy. What's happening to me?!_

The woman put her hand to her heart, letting out a sigh of relief as her warm smile returned.

"Thank you! You're such a lifesaver, Miles! My little sister's the girl in the lab coat over there." The woman said, pointing at the area near the foot of the slide where Ema- who was wearing a lab coat one size too big and large pink glasses- was entranced in her own world, grinning ear to ear as she carefully scooped some sand into a test tube. "Knowing her, she probably won't move from that spot or cause anyone trouble, but I just want to make sure she's safe. And if she asks where I am, just tell here that Lana's out studying and will be back as soon as she can."

"Y-Your name is Lana…? A lovely name it is… Nice to meet you." Edgeworth stammered, trying his best to keep a firm grip on his remaining rationality.

Lana giggled upon seeing the young man's awkwardness. "Aw, how sweet! It's nice meet you too, Miles. Thanks again for doing this. I'll be back as soon as I can." Lana said, rushing away from the area as Edgeworth stared longingly at her.

"And I'll be counting the seconds…" Edgeworth amorously whispered under his breath. _Wait, what am I saying? I don't care when people come back. In fact, I hate people. I don't know what's going on, but perhaps I should seek medical attention when I get back home. But for the time being, I think that it would be in my best interest to get back to my reading, occasionally stopping to check on Lana's sister._

* * *

Meanwhile, a little distance away, Aura was sitting on a bench, growling and gritting her teeth as she mustered all of her willpower to keep herself from strangling her annoying little brother, who had been going on and on about his anime/weeaboo crap for the past hour.

Aura began to impatiently tap her foot, her scowling eyes searching the boardwalk for Maya's sister. _Where is that girl's sister!? She said that she'd be here at 7:30, but yet here it is 7:45 and she's nowhere to be found. She's probably one of those big-city, small-town girls- the type of stupid bimbo that they base t.v. romantic comedies off of. Probably some dyed-blonde bimbo with a chest fuller than her head who can't tell the difference between up and down like the ones in school- the ones who make fun of me just because I like to work with tools and occasionally wear flannel shirts. But unlike with those sluts who I don't mess with, instead letting their STDs do my dirty work, this bimbo's getting no mercy. I swear, the second I see this bitch, she's going to wish-_

"Mia!" Maya squealed at the top of her lungs, prompting Aura to shoot a venomous glare in the direction that the little aspiring spirit medium was looking, causing her face to redden for a reason other than anger.

Aura could not believe her eyes. Simon's fetish friend's sister, this 'Mia', was drop-dead gorgeous. From her long, flowing hair to shapely frame, Mia made Aura feel extreme lust and affection regarding those of the same gender that she had only merely pondered beforehand. But what was perhaps the piece de resistance of Mia to the scientific purple-head was her rather… ample bosom.

Sure, it wasn't like Aura was lacking in the torso department, a fact that countless annoying, slack-jawed boys in her school would remind her of on a regular basis, but compared to Mia, she might as well have been as flat as a wall. Aura didn't want to think like this. She thought of herself as being the type to see beyond such shallow, fickle aspects like physical appearance, but she just couldn't help herself. This Mia woman was practically exposing her massive bazoombas underneath that tight, black, sleeveless top of hers for the world to see.

At this moment, Aura wanted nothing more than to ask this Mia woman out on a date, to not only get a better idea of her own identity, but also as compensation for putting her through the hell that was her brat of a little brother's endless weeaboo cringe-talk. If Aura was to endure that kind of torture without ripping off Simon's unbathed head, she deserved some form of reward, and she was determined to get said reward from Mia. However, before that could happen, the purple-haired girl would have to first talk to this well-endowed beauty… a task easier said than done, if her tomatoe-red face and fidgety hands were of any indication.

"Hi, I'm Mia, Maya's older sister- we talked over the phone." Mia said as she extended her hand out for a handshake.

"H-Hi…" Aura shakily responded, placing a limp, clammy hand in Mia's and shaking, making the slightly-older girl feel as if she was shaking hands with a sick dolphin.

"Thanks again for letting Maya hang out with your brother. Our village is rather small and remote, so there really aren't that many activities for her to do outside of her training. Was she any trouble for you?"

"N-No. Not at all! She was a pleasure!" Aura nervously stated, her eyes bugging out as a few drops of cold sweat began to form on her face.

"Are you sure?" Mia asked, cocking her head in uncertainty. "Because you sound tense and I know first-hand that Maya's eating habits can be a pain to deal with, especially in regards to burgers."

"Mia calls me the 'Burger Shark'! Nom! Nom! Nom!" Maya boasted, biting the air like a shark would a baby seal.

"No, it's not… not that. You see, I… Well, I… I have… diarrhea!" Aura spouted out, slapping her forehead upon realizing her stupidity as Mia flashed her a strange look. _Diarrhea? DIARRHEA!?_ _ **This**_ _kind of crap is why you're single, Aura…! That, and Weebicus telling all of your friends that he wants to be the next Hokage!_

"... Well, I hope you feel better. Thanks again for showing Maya a good time." Mia said with a tone of unease as she and Maya walked away from the Blackquill siblings.

"Yeah, tonight was real fun! We should do it again, Simon!" Maya chimed in, frantically waving to her new friend.

"Hai" Simon said with a bow. "And I will be desu, desu excited for it, my kawaii loli."

After the Fey sisters left the area, Aura just stood there, staring intensely in the direction that Mia went as if that would prompt the busty girl to come back. Though she was almost immediately interrupted by Simon tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie, prompting the purple-haired girl to glare down at her younger brother.

"So what are we going to do now, onee-san? Go to the comic book store we just passed by and browse for desu shounen magna? See if there are any places with desu rakugo? Or perhaps we should-"

"Follow Maya and her sister to wherever they're going." Aura stated in a no-nonsense tone.

"Sumimasen? Why would we want to do that?" Simon asked, cocking his head in confusion.

 _Just my luck, being a creepy stalker, the only good trait that weebs possess, is the one that my stupid brother lacks._ "Well, Simon, do you like Maya?"

"Hai, she is a desu kawaii loli."

"And do you want her to be safe?"

"Does 5Brats ruin all that they touch?" Simon paused for a few seconds, but upon seeing Aura giving him a confused look, answered his own question. "That's also a 'hai'."

"Well, what would Naruto do if his pink-haired girlfriend Squeegee went off into unknown lands?"

"Ugh!" Simon groaned, rolling his eyes at his anime-ignorant sister. "It's Sakura, Aura-chan, Naruto's friend is named Sakura! And she's not even his girlfriend! Everyone knows that Naruto and Hinata is OTP!"

"Whatever. Would Naruto and his samurai friends just sit around and do nothing?"

"No, they'd use their abilities as _ninjas_ to follow her from the shadows."

"Exactly. And that's exactly what we're going to do."

"Hai, but first…" Simon closed his eyes and began making a series of strange hand gestures.

"What in Asimov's name are you doing?"

"Channeling my chakra to utilize the Transformation Jutsu, that way I can follow them with arousing any suspicion."

"I don't have time for this…!" Aura huffed, grabbing Simon's arm after a few seconds of seeing that only thing being accomplished was him looking even more ridiculous than normal and rushed in the direction that she saw the Fey sisters heading in.

"Not desu kawaii, onee-san!" Simon objected.

* * *

After a few minutes of following Maya and Mia, a task consisting of Aura and Simon sneaking through crowds while the former had to also deal with keeping Simon from attempting to perform more jutsus, Aura saw Mia at a playground area talking to a young, stern-faced man dressed like a character from her weeb brother's cartoons.

"… So would it be alright if you watch Maya for a bit while I go to my study session? I'll pay you $20 for your services." Mia said as she pulled a $20 bill out of her ample bosom.

"I may be wealthy, but what's the harm in making some extra money on the side?" _Though I'm washing that bill off before putting it in my wallet._

Mia knelt down so that she was at eye-level with Maya. "Ok Maya, I'm going to my study session. I'll be back as soon as I can, but until then, this nice man will be watching over you, so please be on your best behavior for him. Can I trust you to do this?"

"You bet, Mia!" Maya chirped with an enthusiastic nod.

"And…?" The older sister said with a stern, yet caring look?

"And I won't pester him into spending all his money on burgers for me." Maya groaned.

"Good." Mia said with a grin. "See you both later!"

"Don't worry, Mia! I won't be any trouble for the pink vampire-man!" Maya jovially stated as she enthusiastically waved to her departing sister.

Edgeworth winced. "Young lady, I'll have you know that I am neither pink _nor_ a vampire."

"Whatever! I'm gonna go play!" Maya stated before running over to one of the climbing walls.

 _She left her sister at that playground? Hmm… Perhaps it would be in my best interest to follow suit and ditch Weeb there._ Aura thought to herself as she hurried Simon over to Edgeworth.

"What-" Edgeworth tried to ask before being interrupted by the purple-haired girl.

"Watch my weeb brother!" Aura hastily said, leaving her anime-loving brother with the now-confused aspiring prosecutor as she rushed away from the area after Mia.

"What just happened!? Is there a sign on this bench that reads 'drop off your younger siblings here'!?" Edgeworth yelled, his eyes bugging out at the thought of now having to watch over not one, not two, not three, but FOUR children under the age of ten.

"… So, Dracula-san, what animes do you watch?"

"Please don't talk to me unless you're on the verge of dying." Edgeworth curtly said as he returned to his book.

"But I am desu dying, Dracula-san…" Simon said as he lowered Edgeworth's book, revealing the adolescent's glaring face. "Dying to know what animes you watch."

"*Sigh…* If you must know, back in my childhood, I was quite the _Signal Samurai_ fan."

" _Signal Samurai_ …?" Simon repeated in a venomous tone, a death glare forming on his face. "That's no anime, that's a desu filthy cartoon!"

"Cartoons and anime are the same thing." Edgeworth nonchalantly stated as he returned to his book, only for the weeaboo boy to rip it out of his hands and throw it back towards the boardwalk.

"Hey!" Edgeworth snapped. "What's your problem?!"

"Baka! Anime and cartoons are as different as night and day, apples and oranges, rice balls and doughnuts…! Animes are exquisitely-animated Japanese works of art that tell the stories of characters as they grow as people in worlds different from our own with a touch of humor here and there; whereas cartoons are merely cheap non-Japanese pictures of characters living their lives in a fantasy world, often sidelining the story with humor."

"So essentially, the same thing with the only difference being the country of origin."

"Baka! They are not!" Simon angrily whined.

"Oh, really? Then name one distinguishing difference between the two."

"Ha!" Simon smirked. "That's desu easy! Anime-"

"That doesn't involve the countries of origin." Edgeworth chimed in.

"Well… Umm… See… Animes have… Cartoons air…" Simon body began to fidget, his hands twitching and face gradually growing redder as he tried in vain to think of a real difference between the two mediums. "I don't need this, Dracula-bo! If you need me, I'm going to cosplay as Monkey D. Luffy in that pirate ship!" Simon pouted as he stormed towards the ship.

"Um, young man, I wouldn't go in there if I were you. You see-"

"Go watch your crummy cartoons in your coffin, baka vampire!" Simon yelled, not even turning to look his babysitter in the face.

 _Fine, don't heed my warning. It's your funeral…_ Edgeworth thought to himself with a smirk.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Gavin brothers were having their own time at the boardwalk, Klavier, wearing a Thor t-shirt, running ahead, filled with excitement and youthful energy, while Kristoph, who was looking rather pale in his periwinkle suit, lumbered behind, holding his stomach with one hand and his head with the other.

"C'mon, bro! Quit walking like an old lady!" Klavier complained, completely ignorant to his brother's condition.

"Don't… Don't talk to me, Klavier! You made me go on that horrid, nauseating ride of pain and misery!" Kristoph snarled at the small child.

"Hey, don't blame me! How was I supposed to know that the operator would leave his station while the ride was still running?"

"You're right…! It was Wright…" Kristoph angrily panted. "Wright did this to me… dirty pudding thief…! I swear… one of these days, I'll make him pay… pay in spades…!"

"This again?" Klavier sighed. "Bro, you got to let that pudding cup incident go. That was seven years ago- I wasn't even born yet!"

"Let it go? Never! I-" The well-dressed adolescent cut himself off as he slapped a hand over his mouth and ran to the closet trashcan he could find before expelling his lunch into the waste basket.

Soon after, Kristoph and Klavier resumed their stroll, the former making a full recovery after purging his ill stomach.

"Ok, I'm feeling much better now, Klavier. Anything else you want to do before we have to regroup with Mother and Father?"

"No." The young child pouted with crossed arms and a scowl on his face.

"Klavier, this isn't like you at all." Kristoph said in a concerned tone. "Normally, there's nothing you wouldn't want to do when it's just us, but tonight you've been so distant- even after I took you to the amusement park and went on that godforsaken ride. Is something bothering you?"

"I don't wanna say!"

"Klavier…" Kristoph got down on his knees so he could be eye-to-eye with his baby brother. "I'm your brother, there should be no secrets between us. Granted, I may not be able to help, but I can sure as heck try."

"Well, when we were on the beach…"

"Ah, I get it: you're upset at that pink-cladded brute for thrashing me. Well, don't you worry, Klavier. He shan't be triumphant for long. For you see, as he grows arrogant and complacent, I shall wait in the shadows, watching his every move as I bide my time for the perfect chance to strike. So as you can see, I may have lost the battle, but in due time I shall win the war." Kristoph smirked.

"No, that's not it." Klavier sullenly responded.

 _Brotherly love at its finest…_ Kristoph thought to himself with a roll of his eyes. "Then what _is_ bothering you?"

"Those two girls… they… they rejected me!"

"Yes, Klavier, I'm very much aware of that fact- especially when you ran back to the umbrella crying and jumped on me."

"That's never happened to me before, Khris! In my kindergarten class, all the girls can't get enough of me. But those two on the beach acted like I was nothing but a pain! Am I losing my touch, bro? Did I peak?"

"Klavier, Klavier, Klavier…" Kristoph chuckled with a shake of his head. "Not every girl on the planet is going to fall head over heels for you. Rejection is a part of life, like the desire to gain knowledge and power, and feelings of vengeance that make you want to crush your enemies into dust beneath your boot."

"What do you know about girls?"

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"No offense, bro, but it's not like the girls are knocking down your door." Klavier sneered.

"I'll have you know, if I wasn't so dedicated to my studies, I could date any girl I want."

"The why don't we make things interesting…?" Klavier asked as a grin spread across his face. "If you can't get a girl to agree to go out on a date with you before midnight tonight, then you have to help me with my homework and play with me for a month."

"And if I manage to get a date?"

"If you do that, then me and Daryan won't sneak in your room and touch your books for a whole month."

"That was you and your little shark-fetish friend?" Kristoph growled, his left eye beginning to twitch. "I made Mother cry last week because I thought that _she_ was the culprit!"

"Well, that'll teach you not to jump to conclusions. So, do we have a deal?"

"On the condition that if I win, you not only never touch my books again, but also do my chores for a month."

"Seriously…?" Klavier groaned.

"Yes, Klavier. The dishwater ruins my nails." Kristoph calmly stated as he eyed his perfectly-manicured fingernails. "Though that shouldn't be a problem… unless, of course, you're scared that you'll lose." The adolescent sneered.

"I'm not scared!" Klavier proudly proclaimed with his hands on his hips.

"Then do we have a deal?"

"Yeah, but you can't bribe the girl or use the big brother card. If you're so good at attracting girls, then you should do it by yourself."

"*Sigh…* Deal." Kristoph shook Klavier's hand. "Now which girl will have the pleasure of being asked out by me…?" The adolescent asked, pushing his glasses up as he scanned the area.

"Why not her?" Klavier asked as he saw Mia running in their direction.

"Hmm… A bit loose-looking, but attractive by western standards... I'll do it. Oh, Miss…" Kristoph smirked, raising his hand to get the girl's attention.

"Can't talk, have to study!" Mia hastily responded as she dashed passed the two blond-haired boys.

"Real smooth, bro." Klavier sneered.

"Not to worry, Klavier. There are plenty of fish in the sea, like that one over there." Kristoph said, pointing to Aura who was running towards them at full speed.

"Hello Miss, how are you…" The well-dressed adolescent trailed off as the purple-haired girl ran past him without saying a word.

"Ok, that's it!" Kristoph growled. "I can deal with one girl rejecting me at a time, but two in the span of mere seconds is where I draw the line! Come, Klavier, it's time for me to pull out the big guns!"

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this…?" Klavier asked with a tone of unease as he and his brother followed after Mia and Aura.

* * *

Back at the playground, Franziska was sitting alone on the ship's deck next to the slide, internally ranting about how much of a fool her 'little' brother was, when suddenly Simon burst on deck, heartily laughing like a pirate.

"What foolishness is this?" Franziska growled, shooting the boy a death glare.

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy, captain of the Straw Hat Pirates, and I claim this here ship for my crew!" Simon bellowed.

"Well, I'm Franziska von Karma and this ship is already mine!" The silver-haired girl snapped.

"Well Franziska, how'd you like to join my crew? The more, the merrier, as I always say!"

"No." Franziska curtly responded, prompting Simon to approach her.

"Is there any way for me to convince you otherwise?"

Franziska lashed at Simon with her riding crop, which he dodged by quickly stepping back.

"Yes, by getting out of my perfect base, you foolish fool!"

"Oh, so it's a fight you want, eh? Well, Monkey D. Luffy never backs down from a fight! Bring it on!"

Seeing Simon's pretending as a taunt, Franziska charged at him and unleashed a barrage of lightning-fast attacks from her infamous weapon which the anime-loving boy dodged with a fluid series of ducks and sidesteps. Though while it seemed that Franziska had the upper hand, Simon took advantage of a brief opening by hitting his opponent with his finger slash attack, and while the attack did no physical damage, it startled the silver-haired girl, causing her to fall backwards down the slide screaming.

"Franziska!" Edgeworth screamed at the top of his lungs as he ran towards his adoptive sister as fast as he could, helping her up when he reached her. "Franziska, are you alright?!"

"I would be if you weren't foolishly holding my hand, Miles Edgeworth! Get off!" Franziska snapped, freeing herself from her 'little' brother's grip with a swift lash of her riding crop.

"Sorry, Franziska. I just wanted to make sure that you're unharmed."

"Once again, Miles Edgeworth, as a von Karma, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself without you holding my hand! Now leave me alone! I'm still angry at you for foolishly making me stay at this foolish playground!" Franziska yelled with crossed arms as she turned her back to the maroon-cladded adolescent.

"*Sigh…* If that's what you want, Franziska…" Edgeworth sullenly replied as he slowly made his way back to his bench.

"Don't you think you're being a bit hard on him? He's just trying to help." Ema said as she got up from her spot on the ground.

"Not you again…!" Franziska groaned upon noticing Ema. "Regardless, what do you know about my foolish little brother? He only did that so he could feel better about himself."

"Little brother?" Ema parroted in a shocked tone as she quickly looked over at Edgeworth. "I don't know about that, because from my point of view, there's nothing little about him. MMM…!" The aspiring scientist said with a longing look in her eyes, prompting Franziska to take a step back.

"Wha-What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying, if _I_ had a brother that caring and handsome… well, let's just say he would be my brother in my dreams, if you know what I mean…"

"No, I don't know what you mean, you foolish deviant! Miles Edgeworth? Cute? Don't make me laugh! That's an oxymoron if I ever saw one." Franziska sneered. "If you saw my little brother behind closed doors, you'd be singing a different tune. For one thing, he has night terrors and screams really loud."

"Aah…" Ema sighed longingly. "He has such an active imagination…!"

"Not to mention, he takes the last strudel during breakfast without asking if anyone else wants it."

"Oh... He's sooo assertive…!"

"And, perhaps one of the worst things that he does, on a daily basis, Miles Edgeworth foolishly hogs one of our bathrooms for ten to 15 minutes, and when he's finally done, he leaves behind the most putrid smell that has ever been smelled! It's as if there's a foolish green cloud floating around the bathroom that refuses to leave for a good hour!"

"And his bowl movements are regular…? Is there any flaw to your magnificent brother?"

Franziska reared back, her eyes bugging out at how out of it this foolish girl was. "You need professional help!"

"No, what I need is a piece of THAT…!" Ema said, directing an amorous look at Edgeworth.

"On the contrary, you need a prescription of-" Franziska reared back her arm, ready to strike her 'little' brother's fangirl with her riding crop, when she was interrupted by the sound of Maya crying in pain.

Seeing one of his wards on the ground crying with a small scrape on her knee, Edgeworth wasted no time in getting up and rushing over to her, along with Ema, while Franziska went over to the now-unoccupied bench.

"What happened, Maya?" Edgeworth asked as he kneeled down so he was at eye-level with the wounded spirit medium.

"I was… I was climbing on the wall… and having fun… when… when… when… I fell oooooffff!" Maya wailed, rubbing the tears out of her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"Here…" Edgeworth said as he handed the wounded girl a handkerchief, which she heartily blew her nose in. "Now don't you worry, Maya. We'll get that little injury fixed up in no time!"

The aspiring prosecutor reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer, squirting a small dollop on his hands and lathering it on the small girl's knee, causing her to hiss in pain.

"I know it hurts, but that's a good thing- it means that it's killing all the bad germs. Now to cover it up…" Edgeworth said as he took a Band-Aid out of his pocket and gently stuck it on Maya's injury. "Better?"

"Uh-huh…" Maya mumbled with a nod of her head.

"Good." The adolescent stated as he helped Maya up on her feet. "Now, in the future, you need to-"

"Get away from my desu kawaii bishoujo!" Simon ordered from inside the pirate ship's entranceway. "I won't let you steal her away, Dracula-bo!"

"Young man, instead of spouting gibberish at me, perhaps it would be in your best interest to keep quiet while I explain-"

"What is there to explain!? First you insult the desu kami-sama world of anime, and now you've gone and harmed my desu kawaii loli! Prepare to face my desu mahou usagi-kuma fighting technique!"

Simon charged at Edgeworth with all the speed he could muster and, before the maroon-cladded adolescent had the chance to react, pounced on him, tackling him to the ground and pinning him down with his knees.

"You're jumping to conclusions! She fell off a climbing wall and I was merely tending to her wounds! Ask anyone here and they'll validate my testimony!" Edgeworth pleaded as he wriggled in a futile attempt to free himself from the greasy, unbathed knees of his anime-obsessed attacker.

"Silence! I will not stand for your desu dirty lies, Dracula-bo!" Simon yelled as he pulled out a small plastic dagger from his kimono. "Now to finish you off once and for all!"

"Yudayajinno oshinko!" Simon roared as he jabbed Edgeworth with his dagger.

"What are you even saying!?" Edgeworth yelled, his eyes becoming as wide as saucers.

"Yudayajinno oshinko!" Simon roared again as he jabbed his victim once again.

"Ow! That really hurts! Please stop!"

"I don't give mercy to those who have desu wronged me!" The young boy snarled as he raised his dagger, preparing for another attack. "Yudayajinno o- Itai! Simon screamed as a stream of sand hit him in the face, prompting him to drop his dagger as he grabbed at his eyes and hastily got back up on his feet.

"Who threw that sand at me!?" The anime-obsessed boy growled.

"I did!"

Removing his hands from his now-bloodshot eyes, Simon flashed a death glare in the direction of the bold confession at Ema, who was glaring back as she held an empty test tube.

"Get away from him, you darn, dirty anthropologist!"

"Why you desu baka girl…! You've made a grave mistake, for I shan't hesitate to use my desu anime fighting techniques to send you to visit Shinigami in Hell!" Simon snarled, his arms outstretched and fingers tense as he struck an 'epic' battle pose.

"Ha! As if your make-believe world could ever hope to compete against the power of Science!" Ema scoffed, prompting Simon to charge at her.

However, unlike most people, who would jump out of the way, Ema stood her ground, waiting for her enemy to get in range before…

"Geology!" Ema yelled, kicking a cloud of sand at Simon, disorienting the young boy and giving her the perfect opportunity to change her position and enact the next part of her strategy.

When the sand settled down, Simon eyes rapidly darted about, scanning the area for his foe who was nowhere to be found until…

"Hey, smelly! Over here!" Ema yelled, prompting the anime-obsessed boy to turn towards her, where he saw the aspiring scientist waving her arms behind the tire swing.

"Watashi koete jagaimooo!" Simon roared as he charged at his opponent, making sure to veer slightly to the left in order to avoid making the same mistake twice.

However, Ema was prepared for just such a move on Simon's part.

"Physics!" Ema yelled, pushing the tire swing slightly to her right as hard as she could, upper-cutting Simon with the tire and causing him to fall on his back.

Seeing her opponent down, Ema wasted no time in rushing over to Simon and pinning him down with her knees before whipping out a container of disinfectant wipes from her lab coat.

"Biology!" Ema yelled as she quickly took two wipes out and began repeatedly lashing Simon with them.

As this was happening, Franziska sat on her bench, rolling her eyes at the conflict.

 _How foolish can these children get? Fighting like foolish savages… They're the ones Miles Edgeworth should be babysitting, not me! I bet I could leave this foolish playground, walk around this foolish boardwalk, and return without nary an incident, leaving my foolish little brother none the wiser. Though unfortunately, while he's by no means perfect, Miles Edgeworth is very perceptive and would notice almost immediately if I was gone, unless…_ Franziska noticed that Edgeworth was occupied with the task of getting Ema off of Simon. _Perfect…_ The silver-haired girl smirked before rushing away from the playground.

A few minutes later, Edgeworth finally succeeded in prying Ema off of Simon, holding her by the arms as she thrashed about while the boy remained on the ground trembling.

"Let me go! I'm not done with him!" Ema snarled.

"Not if you're going to keep attacking him!" Edgeworth retorted as he tightened his grip on the bloodthirsty girl.

"I was only attacking him to help you! You should be thanking me!"

"While I do appreciate the motive behind your actions, it does not justify the use of violence."

"But he started it!"

"I don't care because _I'm_ ending it. Now apologize to that boy."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then perhaps Lana would be very interested to know what you've just done." Edgeworth smirked as Ema's eyes widened with fear.

"O-Ok, I'll apologize." Ema said, prompting Edgeworth to let go of her.

Upon being released, the aspiring scientist helped her former opponent back up on his feet.

"I'm sorry for beating you up." Ema sullenly said, her eyes focused on the ground as she gently slid her foot back and forth in the sand.

"You should be, you baka. And you only won because I let you. If I was desu serious, I would have beaten you desu, desu fast." Simon boasted, earning a disapproving look from Edgeworth.

"Don't kid yourself, young man. If it wasn't for me breaking up that very one-sided fight, you'd still be crying on the ground while having your derriere handed to you with a disinfecting wipes."

"No, I wouldn't!" Simon pouted, his cheeks starting to redden.

"Well, how about I tell your sister about this when she returns and get her opinion on the matter?"

Knowing full well that Aura would never let him live down this defeat if she ever found out, Simon swallowed his pride and accepted Ema's apology.

"Hai" Simon said with a bow. "I graciously accept your apology, oh desu strong loli."

"And aren't you forgetting something, young man?" Edgeworth asked with crossed arms.

"*Sigh…* I'm sorry for attacking you, Dracula-bo..."

"Better. And for the record, please refer to me as 'Mr. Edgeworth', not 'Dracula-bo'. We live in the real world, not Yugi-Poké-Digi-Dragoman Land."

"Fine, Mr. Edgeworth! Are you desu happy now?" Simon growled.

"Very." Edgeworth sneered. "Now, until your respective guardians return, I want all of you to be on your best behavior- no yelling, no reckless playing, and most importantly: no assaulting me for my views on media…" The adolescent ordered, giving Simon the stink eye when mentioning assault. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." Ema and Maya said in unison while Simon replied shortly after with a "Hai".

"Good. Now if you three…" Edgeworth cut himself upon realizing that he was missing a child, specifically his adoptive sister, who, if not with him by the time he regrouped with his mentor and Gant, would cause him to die a slow, painful, electric and rant-filled death due to the fact that he lost her while watching three complete strangers.

"Where's Franziska!?" Edgeworth demanded in a distraught tone as he frantically scanned the area. "Young girl, silver hair, a penchant for using variations of the word 'fool' and whipping boys…!"

The children all shook their heads, completely unaware of Franziska's whereabouts.

"Franziska! Franziska! Where are you!? If you can hear me, tell that I'm a fool!" Edgeworth bellowed at the top of his lungs, only to receive no reply.

"Oh no… Oh no…! Knowing Franziska, she probably left the area when I was distracted with Maya, Anime Kid, and… and… What's your name?" Edgeworth asked Ema.

"Ema, but you can call me whatever you want, Mr. Edgeworth." The girl flirtatiously responded.

"Thanks… I think?" Edgeworth said with a tone of uncertainty, not sure how to respond to Ema's behavior. "Anyways, back to the matter at hand: finding Franziska. Knowing her, she won't go to the southern portion of the boardwalk since she wants to avoid the amusement park at all costs, leaving us with the northern half. So with this information in hand, let's waste no time in searching for her." The adolescent stated as he lead his group of children away from the playground and onto the boardwalk.

"If only Mia was here. She knows everything and would solve this problem in no time!" Maya boasted.

* * *

"I don't know anything!" Mia yelled, gripping the sides of her head in frustration. "I've been studying this stuff for hours on end practically this entire week and it's still not sinking in!"

"Mia, just calm down and take a sip of your smoothie." Lana said as she nudged Mia's cup towards her. "Everything will be fine."

"No, they won't!" Mia slammed her fists against their table. "If I don't ace this final, I'll lose my scholarship and I'll never become an attorney!"

"Mia…" Lana calmly said, gently putting her hand on her friend's tense shoulder. "You're a smart girl. You know this material, but your nerves are getting the best of you. If you take a few deep breaths and relax, you'll find that you know more than you think you do."

"Alright, Lana. I'll try…" Mia said as she let out a deep sigh.

 _Ok, she's finally calmed down…_ Aura thought to herself as she watched the two girls from a few tables away. _Now's your chance, Aura. Don't blow it!_

"H-Hey, Mia…" Aura nervously said, shakily waving her hand at her.

"Oh, hi Aura. Was there something you needed?"

"Well… I was just in the area and, um… I just wanted to know if you'd like to-"

"Hello, ladies!" Kristoph proclaimed, the top button on his shirt undone and a boombox in hand, as he sauntered over to the table with Klavier following closely behind. "Do any of you know the forecast is for the next five minutes?"

"No, not really." Mia replied.

"I think that the weather's supposed to remain sunny for the rest of the day." Lana added.

Klavier, noticing that Aura was glaring daggers at his older brother, tried to help Kristoph dodge a bullet by tugging on his periwinkle suitcoat.

"Bro, I don't think that this is a good idea."

"Quiet, Klavier, I'm working my magic." Kristoph replied without looking at his little brother. "Now, where was I…? Oh, right." The adolescent boy placed the boombox on the table. "I know what the forecast is, ladies, and…"

"It's raining men!" A female voice yelled as the boombox started playing Geri Halliwell's _It's Raining Men_ at full-blast.

"What the…?" Lana said as her and Mia's eyes widened at the sight of Kristoph beginning to squat in beat with the song.

Klavier noticed Aura starting to growl and clench her fists. "Uh, bro… I really think we should leave."

"You're only saying that because you know that I'm going to succeed. Now if you'll excuse me, these fine ladies are on the verge of falling for my charms."

"Trust me, we're not." Mia stated, wanting so badly to look away from the squatting adolescent, but, like with a horrible car crash, she found herself unable to.

"Hey, pisshead!" Aura snapped as she slapped Kristoph's shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment here!"

"Tell you what, dearie, if you play your cards right, I can give you a moment..." Kristoph said as he flashed the purple-haired girl a sultry grin.

"What!" Aura hissed.

"You heard me, sweet cheeks. There's plenty of room on the Kristoph Express for all you fine ladies and it stops for nothing!" Kristoph boasted as he began to squat even faster.

"Oh, we'll see about that…!" Aura snarled as she picked up his boombox.

"Put down my boombox this instant!" Kristoph demanded. "What do you think you're- Noooo!"

* * *

As Kristoph was trying- and failing- to get a date, Franziska was wandering around the boardwalk, a smirk on her face as she relished her victory over her foolish little brother. Sure, she didn't have any money, but Franziska didn't need any to have a good time, she just needed to get away from that foolish playground and the fool who took her there in the first place- a task she accomplished in spades.

So suffice to say, Franziska felt like she was on top of the world, the master of her own destiny, capable of doing whatever she wanted… so long as it didn't cost anything and got back to Miles Edgeworth in time to regroup with her papa and Gant. But other than that, Franziska was a free girl and nothing could ruin that… except a short man with a single tuft of pink hair on the top of his head and several teeth missing, wearing only a brown trench coat, stepping out in front of her.

"Oh ho ho… You're pretty, hmm, yes…" The man said with an unsettlingly large grin as he twiddled his fingers.

"Thanks…" Franziska said with a tone of unease as she tried to walk around the man, only for him to block her path.

"Where are you going, young lady? Got some place to be?"

"I have to meet with my brother. He gets very worried when we're separated."

"Hoh, hoh. What a nice brother you have, uh, huh. But I don't think he'd mind if you helped me out with a favor."

"A favor…?"

"Uh, huh. A real small one. My puppy's lost and I need someone to help me find him."

"Do you think that I'm foolish enough to believe that foolish lie?" Franziska smirked. "That's the oldest trick in the book on abductions."

"Hoh, hoh. Not gonna bite, are ya." The strange man stated as he began to scratch all over his body. "Well, I have candy, and lots of it. Hmm, yes." The man stated as he took some suspicious-looking no-name candy out of his coat pockets. "Want some? Hmm, yes?"

"I'm not taking your candy, you foolish creep!" Franziska snapped.

"Come on, one bite. It's yummy in the tummy, uh, huh…!" The man leaned towards Franziska, twiddling his fingers, earning him a lash in the face with her ridding crop.

However, unlike with most other people, instead of being left in pain, or at the very least driven back, the perverted pink-haired man was not only unfazed, but actually seemed to enjoy it.

"Oh ho ho! So stingy…! So exhilarating…!" The perverted man hissed, much to Franziska's dismay.

"What kind of fool are you!?"

"The kind that just wants to be your friendly, friendly friend, uh, huh!"

Seeing that this man couldn't be stopped by conventional means, Franziska figured that her only hope for safety would be if she ran back to her brother in the hopes that the perverted stranger would be intimidated by Miles Edgeworth's cold glare and fierce, unyielding nature. And so, Franziska ran back the other way at full speed as the pink-haired man chased after her while he made promises of buying her a pony and brushing her hair.

However, despite her best efforts, Franziska noticed the man slowly, but surely catching up to her, so, with no other options coming to mind, the silver-haired girl rushed into a nearby alley, hoping that it would lead to some other part of the boardwalk. But unfortunately for her, all the alley lead to was a dead end- a brick wall that Franziska pressed her back against, shaking like a leaf as the debauched man walk towards her, twiddling his fingers as his smile grew wider.

This was the end, Franziska read enough case files on this sort of crime to know that it usually ends with the child's corpse being found in a river or a shallow grave. Bracing herself for the inevitable, Franziska closed her eyes, waiting for something bad to happen. However, that was not the case.

"Hmm, yes? Who are-" The man tried to ask before being cut off by a bone-shattering noise, followed by a loud thud.

Opening her eyes, Franziska felt simultaneously relieved and terrified- relieved at seeing the pink-haired creep lying face down on the ground, unconscious as a small stream of blood oozed out of the corner of his mouth, and terrified upon seeing the person who saved her: a mime.

Her savior was a tall, lanky man- appearing six feet tall at the very least- with a thin, powdered face and wearing classic mime attire- a black and white striped shirt, black suspenders, white gloves, and a black derby hat. However, trivial details such as appearance did not matter to Franziska, who was still trembling with her back against the wall.

"Get-Get back, you foolish mime! I-I'm not afraid to use this!" Franziska stuttered, weakly holding up her riding crop with a shaky hand.

Upon seeing the young girl's terror, the mime, being dedicated to his career, remained silent and put his hands out in front of him and frantically shook them before pointing to himself and then at the unconscious pink-haired creep.

"You… You stopped him?" Franziska asked with a tone of shock, unable to believe that a mime would actually save her life, to which he replied with a nod.

The mute performer then pointed to Franziska and then at his other hand, which he was using to give her a thumbs up.

"Are you asking if I'm alright?"

The mime nodded once more.

"Yes, I'm fine." Franziska answered, prompting the performer to grin before giving her two thumbs up.

The mime then proceeded to point to Franziska and gestured for her to come with him, though upon seeing the young girl's hesitation, the performer turned his pockets inside-out to show her that he was unarmed. Upon seeing this, and knowing that the man saved her life, Franziska walked out of the alley with the mime where they were confronted by an adolescent with his hair moderately long and spikey in the front and short in the back with some peach fuzz growing on his chin.

"Yo, Hugh! Where have you been? Your break ended 15 minutes ago and the boss sent me out to bring you back!" The adolescent yelled as shook his clenched fists at the mime.

Though with a series of hand gestures and bits involving running in place, Hugh told the teen about what had just transpired with the pink-haired creep and how he needed to help Franziska find her family.

"Look Hugh, you get back to your post while I help this little cutie get back to where she needs to go." The adolescent said, earning him a glare from the mime. "I'm not gonna hit on her! What kind of creep do you think I am!?" The boy yelled, prompting Hugh to slowly walk towards the amusement park while giving the adolescent the stink eye.

Upon seeing Hugh leave the area, the adolescent kneeled down so that he was face-to-face with the young girl.

"Hiya, my name's Larry! What's yours?"

"None of your business." Franziska curtly responded with crossed arms and a scowl on her face.

"C'mon, don't be mean to ol' Mr. Larry! I just want to be your-" Larry was cut off by Franziska lashing him in with her riding crop, causing him to yelp in pain. "Never mind. So, who did you come here with?"

"My papa and brother, but I was with just my brother when we separated."

"So, do you have any general idea where either of them are?"

"Oh, I know exactly where my brother is." Franziska smirked with a waggle of her finger.

"Ok! That's great!" Larry enthusiastically said with a clap of his hands. "So where is he?"

"I don't want to tell you."

"Why not?" Larry asked as he cocked his head in confusion. "Don't you want to get back together with him after all that's happened?"

"I left him because I didn't want to deal with his foolishness, something that I'm not ready to return to. Therefore, you won't be getting any more information from me." Franziska stated as she raised her nose in derision.

"Fine." Larry said, his face and tone becoming more serious. "If you don't want to tell me anything, I'll just take you to security and have them keep you safe until your father or brother comes to pick you up."

Upon hearing this, Franziska eyes began to bug out. For it was one thing to deal with Miles Edgeworth's foolishness and superiority complex, but dealing with her papa was a completely different, deadlier ballpark- one which involved lots of yelling and electricity. So, deciding to deal with the lesser of two evils, Franziska chose to be more open with the adolescent.

"On second thought, I'd be more than happy to show you where my little brother is." Franziska said with a smile, grabbing Larry's hand and walking him in the direction of the playground.

* * *

A little bit later, Edgeworth was walking with the other children, holding Ema and Maya's hands while Simon held the aspiring spirit medium's other hand.

"Why are we holding hands! I don't wanna hold hands!" Maya pouted with puffed cheeks.

"Well, maybe you should of thought about that before running off twice to steal hamburgers from complete strangers. It's one thing trying to prevent losing more children, but it's another when I have to deal with theft." Edgeworth retorted.

"Well, you don't have to be some old geezer about it!"

"Hey, I'm not complaining. I love this arrangement!" Ema proclaimed with a large grin.

"Hai, I desu agree with Ema-chan, for I get to hold the hand of my desu kawaii loli Maya-chan." Simon chimed in.

"Alright, children, stay focused. Our goal is to find Franziska. Now, this may take a while, and our morale may start to dip with each unsuccessful minute, but we must press on until we finally-"

"Found her!" Ema chirped, pointing to Franziska who was walking in their direction with Larry.

Upon seeing her brother, the silver-haired girl let go of Larry's hand and calmly walked over to Edgeworth, where he gave her a bear hug.

"Get off of me, Miles Edgeworth!" Franziska ordered, freeing herself from her brother's hug with a swift swing of her riding crop.

"Franziska von Karma, do you know how worried I was about you?! You may think you're so powerful, but what if you run into someone bigger, or stronger, or resilient to your riding crop? You could be kidnapped or worse! I-" Edgeworth was cut off with another lash from the riding crop.

"Miles Edgeworth, stop being so emotional! I'm fine and nothing happened. And do you know why? Because I'm a von Karma, and von Karma's are-"

"Edgey!?" Larry yelled with excitement, interrupting Franziska and causing Edgeworth's eyes to bug out upon seeing childhood friend that he didn't miss.

"No, it can't be…!" Edgeworth gasped, reeling back as if he was face-to-face with the Grim Reaper.

"Yo, Edgey! Tell me you didn't forget about me and all the good times we had!" Larry snapped, his eyes filling with tears as he slowly approached the maroon-cladded adolescent. "Well, even if you did, we can always use this time to catch-

"Run!" Edgeworth yelled, grabbing one of each child's hands and running for his life with them as Larry chased after him.

Seeing the danger present, Simon took a paper throwing star out of his kimono and threw it at Larry, hitting the adolescent in the eye, though not severely wounding the adolescent, and causing him to fall to the ground.

"Ah! My eye!" Larry screamed as he flailed his legs. "What did I ever do to deserve this!?"

So with Larry incapacitated, Edgeworth managed to return to the playground with the four children without any further incidents.

* * *

Later, after Ema, Maya, and Simon had been safely returned to their respective guardians, Edgeworth and Franziska made their way to the spot where they'd regroup with Manfred and Gant.

"Remember, Franziska, if your father or Detective Gant asks what happened tonight, just tell them that we simply had an uneventful stroll around the boardwalk."

"You don't have to tell me twice, Miles Edgeworth. I don't want to be hit with that stun gun as much as… Speaking of which, there's Papa and Detective Gant now." Franziska stated as she saw the two older men approaching their position.

But as they approached the aspiring prosecutors, Edgeworth couldn't help but notice Franziska giving her father a strange look.

"Is there something wrong, Franziska?"

"Is it just me, Miles Edgeworth, or is Papa not only missing his cane, but also his jacket and shoes?"

"It appears so…" Edgeworth stated as he took a closer look at his mentor. "This day just keeps getting stranger and stranger with each passing minute."


	7. Par for the Course

**A/N:** Ages of the characters introduced in this chapter…

 **Justine:** **15**

 **Fulbright:** **14**

 **Horace:** **13**

 **Patricia:** **26**

 **Simon Keyes:** **14**

 **Sebastian:** **6**

* * *

"Gant, you maniac, you can't do this to me!" Manfred roared, glaring daggers at the smiling detective as he pushed his back against his seat, as if in a futile attempt to stop the orange Mustang from entering the parking lot for a mini-golf course with a large sign depicting a grinning man, dressed in a leprechaun's green suit with a matching green, puffy hat, holding a golf club like one would a cane.

"Calm down, Manny, you act like I'm sending you the gallows!" Gant chuckled as he slowly drove around the crowded parking lot to find an empty spot.

"Objection! The gallows would be a far kinder fate than this Santaforsaken den of iniquity! For at least being hung is a quick experience, and not a slow, agonizing one that makes you pray for the sweet release of death!" Manfred snarled.

"Manny, it's a putt-putt course, not Blaisie's cellar. You'll survive. …Oh, there's a spot! And right at the entrance, no less!" The detective giddily responded with a clap as he quickly claimed it for himself and his group.

"Detective Gant, why did you bring us here?" Edgeworth calmly asked, staring out the window as he took in the sights of the fenced-in mini-golf course.

"Does a man need a reason to want to have fun with one of his best friend and his family, Worthy?"

"Yeah, Miles Edgeworth. Detective Damon Gant merely wishes to amuse himself by watching me thoroughly defeat you." Franziska smirked with a finger waggle.

"Oh, so _now_ you wish to go out to a place where 'it's loud, has nothing to offer, and full of people who are dead above the neck'?" Edgeworth sneered.

"But this place does have something to offer me, Little Brother: the opportunity to prove my superiority. Granted, it's probably filled with more foolishly foolish mouth breathers than I'd care to be around, but the joy of victory will make it all worthwhile."

"Cling to those hopes while you still can, 'Big' Sister…" Edgeworth smirked, earning him a lash from Franziska's ridding crop.

"And just what is that supposed to mean, Miles Edgeworth?" The young girl growled.

"I'm just saying that unlike you, I've actually played real golf. So with that in mind, I hold a sizeable advantage over you."

"Nu-huh, Miles Edgeworth!" Franziska snapped, bending her riding crop out of frustration. "As a von Karma, I'm more than capable of perfectly mastering any skill within a matter of minutes. Therefore, all your foolish golf experience will do is make you look slightly less foolish when I defeat you!"

"Franziska, Franziska, Franziska…" Edgeworth sneered, shaking his head with outstretched arms. "It's a known fact that no amount of natural talent alone will ever triumph over actual experience. Take our games of chess, for example."

"Those don't count, Miles Edgeworth!" Franziska snarled as she slammed her fist into the car door. "I merely let you win to amuse myself!"

"Oh, and pray tell, how does one losing five consecutive times in a single day lead to one's amusement?"

"I win wars, Miles Edgeworth. Sure, I may had lost more times than I'd like to admit, but it was all part of my plan to make you overconfident, causing you to let your guard down and netting me an easy win!" Franziska smugly retorted with a smirk and her hands proudly on her hips.

"Please refresh my memory, Franziska. How exactly _did_ the sixth game end?"

After a few brief seconds of awkward silence, Franziska responded in the only way she knew how to when backed into a corner- by whipping her foolish brother with her riding crop.

"Shut up, Miles Edgeworth!"

"Now, children, save some of that for the golf course." Gant chimed in. "In fact, why don't we make things interesting and play teams- you young'uns versus me and Manny!"

"What! I don't want to be on a team with my foolish little brother! He'd only serve to slow me down!" Franziska whined, lashing Edgeworth's right leg with her ridding crop for emphasis.

"If I seem to be slow to you, it's only because I've lost all feeling in my legs after years of abuse by your hand with that bloody-"

"No one cares about your opinion, Miles Edgeworth!" Franziska interrupted as she delivered yet another blow to her adopted brother's leg with her trusty weapon.

"Aw, c'mon Franny-Banany! It'll be fun!" Gant said with a clap of his gloved hands. "Plus, it'll give you valuable training for when you become a prosecutor and have to work together with others."

"No, it won't!" Franziska huffed, whipping Gant with her riding crop out of frustration, though the orange-cladded detective appeared completely unfazed. "You're foolish and your foolishly foolish plan is foolish!"

"Franny-Banany, I wasn't giving you a choice." Gant sternly stated, his eyes narrowing into his infamous stare, which almost instantaneously silenced the hot-headed girl.

"Regardless of what you think, Gant, your plan is destined for failure. For how do you expect to be on a team with me when I don't have shoes?" Manfred asked, finally deciding to join in the conversation.

"Easy! You can wear the pair of flippers I keep in the trunk!" Gant chirped with a clap.

"I will do no such thing." Manfred huffed. "Flippers are not shoes."

"They're the shoes of the sea, Manny! You'll be fine! And as for your missing cane, you can use your golf club as a substitute once we're inside. You can pretend to be the Mad Putter's Transylvanian cousin!" Gant mused with a chuckle.

"Well, I'm not leaving this car and there's nothing you can do to change my mind!" Manfred bellowed with crossed arms.

"So that's how it's going to be, eh Manny…?" Gant commented as he gave Manfred one of his infamous stares, causing the veteran prosecutor's eyes to bug out as he broke out in a cold sweat and clenched his right arm.

* * *

Edgeworth and Franziska stood outside the car, completely silent and motionless as they stared at the scene before them with looks of awe. The 'scene' consisting of Gant trying to pull Manfred out of the passenger seat by his feet while their mentor clung to the door for dear life.

"Get off of me you braindead oaf! This is kidnapping!" Manfred yelled, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the door tightened.

"It's not kidnapping if the police is doing it, Manny! You of all people should know that! Now let go, you're making a scene!" Gant grunted as he heaved at his childhood friend's legs with even more strength.

"Never! Gregory Edgeworth will be running an ice-skating rink in Hell before I let go of this door!"

"Well, I can keep this up for a long time, Manny! I go swimming!"

"I don't care if you're Hercules himself! The only way you're prying me off this door and onto that blasted mini-golf course is if you rip it off of its hinges!"

"Miles Edgeworth, shouldn't we be helping Papa?" Franziska asked, breaking the silence between her and her adopted brother as they watched from the sidelines.

"Now, Franziska, you know how prideful Mr. von Karma can be. If we were to assist him, it would only end badly for us."

"But-" Franziska tried to rush over to help her father, but was stopped by Edgeworth placing a firm, yet calm, hand on her shoulder.

"Trust me, Franziska. When it comes to your father, it's always better to let him fight his own battles." _If that chicken fight earlier today was of any indication…_

* * *

"Excuse me, miss, but do you have any place where we can store a car door?" Gant asked the person working the front booth- an adolescent girl wearing a black Themis Legal Academy dress- as he played with his hair.

"Umm… What?" The girl responded, dumbstruck at the sight of Manfred, wearing a scowl on his face and black flippers on his feet, holding a bright, neon-orange car door.

"You know, any storage rooms or a locker, or maybe we could just store it behind your counter until we're ready to leave. Would that be okay with you… Justy?" Gant asked with a grin as he read her nametag, not hesitating to give the girl one of his famous nicknames.

"First of all, sir, my name is Justine, not 'Justy'. And second, The Mad Putter has a strict policy against storing customer items in employee-restricted areas. But if you want, you can leave it against the side of the booth." Justine said with a smile, gesturing to the side wall of the stone structure.

"Jolly good, Justy! We'll do just that!" Gant chirped with a clap of his hands, oblivious to the adolescent girl rolling her eyes at him upon hearing him call her 'Justy' again, as Manfred placed the car door against the designated wall.

"Ok, how many golfers?" Justine asked as she stared down at her computer monitor.

"Does that include those forced to play against their free will?" Manfred wryly retorted, earning a glare from Gant.

"Manny…" The orange-cladded detective sternly stated. "Four- me, Manny, Worthy, and Franny-Banany!" Gant said with a grin.

"Alright…" Justine said as she typed the information into her computer. "That'll be $30.00."

"Well it won't be for long, Justy. I have a coupon!" Gant boasted as he reached into his pocket and handed Justine a five dollar-off coupon.

"Ok… Make that $25."

Gant handed Justine his credit card, which she then swiped through a bar scanner before returning it to the detective.

"Alright, so what color balls do you want?" Justine asked.

"I'll take silver!" Franziska chirped, prompting the adolescent employee to hand her a silver golf ball.

"I'll take orange!" Gant replied with a clap, earning him a bright-orange ball.

"I'm sure you can guess which color I want by my outfit." Edgeworth smirked, but his smug grin quickly faded when Justine presented him with a bright-red ball. "Not quite…"

"Oh, sorry about that…" Justine said as she took back the red ball and replaced it with a bubblegum-pink one.

"Oh, come on!" Edgeworth yelled. "What is wrong with humanity!? Why can't anyone tell the difference between maroon and pink?"

"I'm sorry, sir. They look the same to me." Justine responded in a disheartened tone with crossed arms.

"Are you blind, woman!? How on God's green earth are these possibly the same color?!" Edgeworth roared, getting in the adolescent girl's face as he held the pink ball up to his suit. "Please notice how one is a shade of crimson with the slightest hint of brown, while the other is PINK!"

 _Maybe this little outing won't be so bad after all…_ Manfred thought to himself as a sneer spread across his face.

"Please calm down, sir. There's no need to yell." Justine calmly stated with an icy scowl as she replaced the offending pink ball with a weathered red one that, at this point in its existence, looked more brown than red. "Is this more to your liking?"

"It's not maroon, but it'll do." Edgeworth commented as he grabbed the ball.

"And what about you, sir?" Justine asked, directing her attention to Manfred as her smile quickly returned.

"I'll take black." The veteran prosecutor bluntly replied with crossed arms.

"Manny…" Gant said as he wrapped his arm around Manfred's shoulder, much to his childhood friend's disdain. "When picking a golf ball, you're sending a message to the whole world about who you are as a person. For example, my orange ball tells people that I'm powerful, yet fun-loving; Franny-Banany's choice of silver indicates a cold, sharp wit and unbending will-"

"It seems you aren't so foolish after all, Detective Damon Gant." Franziska smirked.

"And Worthy's choice of maroon is a clear sign of his closeted homosexuality."

"WHAT!?" Edgeworth shrieked his eyes bugging out as he reeled back, as if he was just punched in the face. "What on earth lead you to _THAT_ conclusion, Detective Gant?"

"Well, you like tea and crepes, you don't willingly engage in sports, you've never displayed even the faintest interest in girls, you wear maroon…" Gant stated as he played with his hair.

"Don't forget that Miles Edgeworth knows ballet!" Franziska chimed in, the huge grin on her face indicating that she was having the time of her young life.

"Ah, thank you, Franny-Banany! That's a big one!"

"Don't encourage him, Franziska!" Edgeworth snapped.

"You brought this upon yourself with your foolish actions at the boardwalk, Miles Edgeworth. This is karmic retribution!" Franziska sneered with a finger waggle, proud of herself for her clever wordplay.

"See, Manny? That's the kind of thing that can happen when you pick a color all willy-nilly…"

"Objection! I did not pick my ball 'willy-nilly', maroon is my favorite color." Edgeworth retorted, though his words fell on deaf ears.

"Now do you want people to think that you're some dark, hate-filled man who doesn't want to be here in the slightest?"

"Make sure my ball is darker than a cloudy, moonless night in the Arctic." Manfred bluntly stated as he pushed Gant off of him, prompting Justine to give him a black ball.

"Alright, regarding golf clubs…" Justine walked towards the back of the booth and returned with four clubs: two long red ones, a medium-length green one, and a short yellow one, which she placed on the counter. "Are these satisfactory?"

"Yep!" Gant chirped as he took a red one.

"For my height, this is perfect." Edgeworth stated as he took the green one.

"Yes." Manfred groaned as he took the other red one.

"No!" Franziska yelled, bending her riding crop as she resisted breaking her promise to herself of never whipping a fellow girl.

"Is it too short for you?" Justine asked with a concerned tone. "Because if it is, we have other children sizes that you can-"

"No, I want a big club like the one Papa has!" Franziska pouted, pointing at the golf club that Manfred was currently using as a makeshift cane.

"But miss, those clubs aren't-" Justine tried to reason with Franziska, but was interrupted by the young girl smacking the side of the building with her riding crop.

"I don't care what foolish reason you were about to tell me, I'm just as good as Papa and I deserve a golf club to match! Now give me a red club or, so help me, I will subject you to a tirade the likes of which you have never seen!"

"Franziska!" Manfred snapped. "That club is the perfect length for a girl of your height!"

"But, Papa…!" Franziska pleaded, but to no avail.

"No buts!" Manfred stated with one of his signature finger snaps. "Such flippant behavior is unbefitting of a von Karma. Now accept that golf club so we can get this foolish outing over with!"

"Yes, Papa…" Franziska sighed in defeat as she grabbed the small, yellow golf club, which ironically enough had a smiley face painted on the head.

"Wait. von Karma… Manny… Sir, are you by any chance the famed prosecutor Manfred von Karma?" Justine asked with a look of intrigue.

"Why, yes I am." Manfred smirked, finding it refreshing to find that at least someone didn't think he was Dracula.

"I should have known from the moment I saw you, given your outfit. But this is quite the coincidence, considering that about a week ago, on one of the last days of class, my Courtroom Etiquette teacher used you as an example in his lecture."

"Oh, and what was that lecture pertaining to? How to present perfect evidence? How to perfectly prepare a witness? How to win a trial in less than three minutes?"

"Actually, it was regarding the proper course of action to take when a prosecutor presents a forced confession." Justine stated, causing Manfred's grin to morph into a scowl. "Is it true that you were only given a penalty and nothing else?"

"I do not wish to talk about it." Manfred curtly responded with crossed arms.

"I didn't mean to offend you with my question, Prosecutor von Karma. You see, as an aspiring judge, I feel that it is paramount that I learn how to dole out punishment in a way that is both firm and fair, and to do that, I need to gain a proper understanding of how influential wrongdoers such as yourself were dealt with. For example, with my current mindset, I feel that a mere penalty would not be enough for one who had so sorely wronged the Goddess of Law!" Justine proclaimed with an icy glare. "Nay, I would not only have ensured that you were given a penalty, but I would personally talk with the chief prosecutor to have you removed from the case and then presented before the Prosecutorial Investigation Committee for potential disbarment!"

 _Have you even met Debeste? Trying to get him to end corruption is about as helpful to your foolish cause as throwing nitroglycerin on a fire. And don't even get me started on the P.I.C… Those pathetic fools couldn't even investigate the back of a cereal box if their lives depended on it._ "I don't have time to listen to your foolish opinions, girl. Come!" Manfred demanded with a snap of his fingers. "Let's get this golf game over with!"

Manfred proceeded to walk towards the first hole as the rest of the group followed behind him.

* * *

The first hole was a simple one in terms of concept: the green was divided into two areas, a raised one on the right with four funnel-shaped holes, and a lower one on the left where the hole itself was located, along with three openings off to the side- a fitting concept for a hole named _Down the Rabbit Hole_.

"Ok, who wants to go first?" Gant asked.

"Like you need to ask?" Franziska smugly replied as she stepped up to the green and placed her ball down, acting like a professional golfer as she made sure the ball was perfectly centered.

However, unlike a professional golfer- or even a normal person, for that matter- who slightly winds back before gently tapping their ball, Franziska quickly swung her club back at a 90-degree angle, hitting her poor, unsuspecting father in his little Mannies, causing him to fall to his knees with a scream.

"Manny, Manny! Are you alright?!" Gant asked as he lifted the wounded prosecutor to his feet.

"Do I look alright to you?!" Manfred snarled through clenched teeth as he tried to keep on his feet with the help of his golf club.

"Well…" Gant started to reply as he played with his hair, but was soon cut off by his childhood friend.

"It was a rhetorical question, you insipid buffoon! And you…" Manfred growled as glared daggers at his young daughter. "What in Santa's name would compel you to do something so foolish?"

"I'm sorry, Papa!" Franziska wailed as she grabbed onto her father's leg. "I just wanted to prove myself as a capable golfer!"

"Then perhaps you should have tried aiming for the ball on the ground." Edgeworth sneered, earning him a lash from his adoptive sister's riding crop.

"Just… Just hit your ball, Franziska… After I move away, of course." Manfred said as he limped out of range from his daughter's club.

Once she was sure that her father was safe from any further injuries, Franziska hit her ball, albeit a bit hard, causing it to land in the farthest opening on the upper section, where it was transported within centimeters of the hole. After a mini rant riddled with variations of the word 'fool', Franziska went down to the lower portion and, with a mere nudge from her club, hit the ball into the hole.

"Good job, Franziska." Edgeworth calmly stated in a tone signifying genuine respect, earning him only the icy glare of his perfectionist sister as she stepped off the green.

"You wanna go next, Worthy?" Gant asked.

"Age before beauty, Detective Gant." Edgeworth smirked with a bow.

"Well, in that case, it's Manny's turn!" The orange cladded detective let out a hearty laugh as he clapped his hands before casting a concerned glance at the still-wounded prosecutor. "But since it seems like Manny's still down, I guess it's up to me to represent the older generation!"

Gant stepped up to the green and, after casually placing his ball, reared his club back. However, before he followed through with his swing, the detective suddenly stopped.

"Is something wrong, Detective Gant? Why did you just stop like that?" Edgeworth asked as he cocked his head in confusion.

"Worthy, if there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I'm a superstitious man. You've gotta be when you put your neck on the line every day…" Gant stated as he played with his hair. "So when it comes to sports, I can't play without my equipment being imbued with good luck. That's why I need Manny to kiss my putter."

"Over my dead body!" Manfred huffed.

"C'mon, Manny! I need you to kiss my putter for good luck!" Gant stated as he extended the golf club towards the veteran prosecutor's mouth prompting him to swat it away.

"Have some decency, Gant! I was just hit in my nether regions by my own daughter. Can't you have Miles kiss it if you're so desperate?"

"Objection! I'm not kissing Detective Gant's golf club!" Edgeworth shouted.

"Don't worry, Worthy, you're not needed- not because I don't believe in you, but because Manny's the only one who can do it. You see, he's been giving my equipment good luck kisses ever since we were kids!"

"You're going daft, Gant. I have never once kissed any of your equipment." Manfred curtly stated as he stood up straight, having finally recovered from his injuries.

"I beg to differ, Manny. You see, back when I was on the junior varsity swim team, on the night before a swim meet, I would sneak into your room while you were sleeping and have you kiss my speedo. And before you ask, no, I never wore the speedo while you kissed it- that would have crossed some major lines."

"That's why my mouth would taste like chlorine and cloth every Thursday!?" Manfred roared, gripping his right arm as his eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"But if it's any consolation, that speedo made me the star of the swimming team and scored me a prime spot in varsity. So will you help me out for old time's sake, Manny?"

"No! Especially after learning about your twisted childhood rituals!"

"Let me rephrase that, Manny…" Gant gave Manfred one of his infamous stares. "You will kiss my putter. You have no choice in the matter."

"Bah! There's always a choice, and I choose not to kiss your dirty golf club."

"Alright, then I'll refuse to take my turn, which will result in us not moving onto the next hole, which will result in us not finishing the game, which will result in us not leaving the putt-putt course. So go ahead and not kiss my putter for good luck, Manny. We'll just sleep here tonight."

"Fine! I will kiss your club, but it will by no means make you play better. This is the real world, not some foolish fantasy realm where magic auras determine victory and books levitate and talk." Manfred stated before begrudgingly kissing Gant's golf club.

"Thank you!" Gant chirped before hitting his ball, sending it into the same hole that Franziska used during her turn and getting a hole in one.

"Bah! That had nothing to do with luck, Gant. You merely took advantage of this hole's mechanics. Anyone can get a hole in one through that method."

Manfred stepped up to the green and hit his ball in the same fashion as Gant, and sure enough, got a hole in one as well.

"What did I tell you?" Manfred smirked.

"You just got lucky, Manny." Gant stated as both men retrieved their balls and joined Franziska on the side.

Edgeworth, being the observant type, mimicked the technique used by his mentor and Gant, earning himself a hole in one as well; thus ending the first hole with three holes in one and a very bitter Franziska, who was too wracked with anger to speak on the matter besides muttering a few variations of 'fool' to herself.

* * *

The next hole, _Quit Seahorsing Around!_ , was pretty straightforward: a straightway of green leading to the hole with the only thing even remotely resembling an obstacle being the namesake animatronic seahorse- a centaur with the top half being a torso wearing a navy-blue wetsuit and a snorkel mask- standing in the middle of the area holding a long, plastic golf club that it would slowly move back and forth across the ground in an attempt to impede the player's progress. However, since the club was moving laughably slow, it was no challenge whatsoever for a player to hit their ball past the club, under the centaur's four legs, and to the hole.

But of course, Franziska, being her usual hasty, aggressive self, after preparing her shot, once again quickly wound back far- thankfully not wounding her father again- and sent her silver ball soaring through the air towards the entrance booth.

"Well, at least you hit the ball this time. Though maybe you should work on keeping it inbounds." Edgeworth noted as he stared up at the sky in the direction Franziska's ball flew off in.

"Shut up, Miles Edgeworth! You don't have to be such a foolish showoff just because you've played a few rounds of golf." The silver-haired girl snarled as she lashed her adopted brother with her riding crop.

"Don't player, Franziska, hate the game." Edgeworth smirked.

"I already do." Franziska pouted with crossed arms.

Meanwhile, Justine wasn't enjoying her evening any more than Franziska was with hers as she listened to Kristoph- whose periwinkle suit was torn in multiple places and was sporting several welts on his head and a black eye beneath a shattered frame of his glasses- tell her his agonizing experience of trying to flirt with Mia and Lana earlier as little Klavier stood off to the side, slowly shaking his head as his once-proud older brother's dignity was gradually depleted. The young boy knew that his big brother was very steadfast and determined, two traits that he greatly admired, but this… this warranted professional help.

"… And then, that purple-haired harpy punched me in the eye before bludgeoning me with my own boombox, causing the fair maidens I was pursuing to flee the scene!" Kristoph wailed in a melodramatic matter similar to that of a Shakespearian actor. "So as you can see, milady, I am but a humble man in search of a fine woman with whom I can give from my endless stores of love and devotion."

"Sir, for the seventh time, I'm not looking to date anyone at the moment, instead choosing to focus all my energy to my studies. So please, either pay for a game or leave." Justine stated with a tone of obvious irritation.

"I understand, I am a man of academics and appreciate pursuits of the mind as well." Kristoph calmly stated with a grin and crossed arms, a look developing in eyes indicating that he was planning something. "Sure, you may not be ready for dating, but let me ask you…"

The blond adolescent took out an mp3 player and started playing the song _Get Ready for This_ as he started gyrating his hips as if he was spinning a hula-hoop, prompting Justine to stare at him with a mixed look of disdain, shock, and anguish.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm enjoying this just as much as you are." Klavier said in a futile effort to comfort the girl, who was beside herself at this moment.

 _Goddess of Law, please help me, your most devoted of servants!_ Justine internally pleaded as Kristoph started to shimmy and do the robot.

At that moment, as if to answer Justine cry for help, Franziska's golf ball quickly plummeted from the sky and right in Kristoph's good eye, knocking his glasses off as he fell to the ground screaming.

"My eye! Klavier…! Klavier, reach into my pocket and use my cellphone to call 9-1-1!" Kristoph wailed as his younger brother did just that. "Before I leave for medical treatment, tell me, milady… Have you changed your previous stance in regards to going on a date with me?"

"No." Justine curtly responded.

"Fair enough…" Kristoph groaned as Klavier helped him up, as well as grabbing his glasses, and guided him out of the area.

"Well, it seems that we can't continue this little game since Franziska no longer has a ball. What a crying shame." Manfred said in a disappointing tone, though his true feelings were obvious to all by the toothy grin on his face.

"Don't worry, Manny, I'll go get Franny-Banany a new ball! So you and Worthy take your turns while I'm out. But first…" Gant held up his putter to Manfred's mouth, prompting the veteran prosecutor to growl as he gave it a quick kiss on the head.

"Thank you!" Gant jovially replied as he went back to the entrance booth.

* * *

Strangely, for most of the game, there was no one in front of the group; an oddity considering the crowded parking lot when they arrived. But 15 golf club kisses, 15 holes in one for Gant, and 6 angry outbursts from Franziska later, they learned the reason behind this.

The 17th hole, keeping up with the precedent of groanworthy pun names established by the previous 15, was named 'The World is Your Oyster!' and consisted of having the player firing their ball into a giant plastic oyster, which would connect to a tube that would transport the ball near the hole. However, the player would have to time their ball just right, for the oyster's mouth would slowly open and close, resulting in a hasty golfer, i.e. Franziska, hitting their ball and causing it to merely bounce off the mouth, forcing them to go back to the start and try again.

However, the von Karma family and Gant would have to wait to try their luck with the plastic mollusk, for there was actually a group in front of them. The group consisted of two adolescent boys, one wearing a Superman logo t-shirt and white shorts with short chestnut brown hair and a big, goofy grin on his face, and the other wearing a Lone Ranger t-shirt with buzz cut black hair and the beginnings of a blond Mohawk running down the center of his head who, unlike his companion, looked utterly pissed. Though it was easy to see why the Lone Ranger teen, who was fiddling around with a pop gun he would occasionally pull out his pocket, was disgruntled, as the other boy was busy coating the entire area with bubble wrap.

"Boy, what on earth are you doing?" Manfred asked, narrowing his eyes at the lad who dared to prolong this torturous mini-golf trip.

"Hello, sir, my name's Bobby Fulbright, and I looove justice! Who are you?" The boy jovially stated with his hands firmly on his hips.

"Your worst nightmare if you don't answer my question." Manfred growled.

"Well, I'm coating this area with bubble wrap to make sure that we don't hurt ourselves if we lose our footing while swinging."

"That is one of the dumbest thing I've ever heard, only being beat by every defense attorney saying 'I'm going to win this trial' when first meeting me." Manfred wryly retorted with crossed arms.

"Thank you!" The Lone Ranger teen huffed. "I've been telling him that ever since he dragged me here!"

"Dragged you here?" Fulbright snapped as he held up a clenched fist. "I take time out of my busy day to give you a reprieve from the sad life you live as an orphan and this is the thanks I get, Horace?!"

"Reprieve? Look, dude, I don't need any help. I only came with you because you wouldn't stop crying and begging outside the orphanage and I lost at rock, paper, scissors, shoot when we were deciding who would deal with you."

"Is it such a crime that I have so much love to give!?" Fulbright wailed, his head tilted back as tears streamed from his eyes like water from a fountain.

"See what we had to deal with this morning at Happy Family Home? I swear, if this gun was real, I wouldn't hesitate putting a bullet in his thick head!" Horace scowled as he twirled his pop gun on his finger, not unlike a braggart villain in a cheesy western film, before pointing it at the burdensome adolescent.

"Y-You don't have to be so mean, Horace…" Fulbright sobbed with an abashed look on his face as he tapped his index fingers together. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to cover this dangerous oyster in my Bubble Wrap of Justice!" The young boy jovially stated, a big grin quickly replacing the frown that was on his face mere seconds prior.

As Fulbright proceeded to take his time trying to cover the large mechanical oyster with bubble wrap, Gant noticed that with each passing second, Manfred's brow was becoming ever more furrowed as his hand gradually slipped into his pocket towards his stun gun. So, in order to avoid a very-likely conflict, the orange-cladded detective tried to reason with the emotional lad.

"Hey, Fully, mind if we talk?" Gant asked, placing a hand on the teen's shoulder.

Oh my gosh…" Fulbright gasped with widened eyes. "You're Detective Gant!"

"Why, yes I am."

"I am your biggest fan! The way you always fight for justice with a smile no matter how tough things get has served as a major influence on how I live my life! That's why when I grow up, I want to be a detective!"

"He's the reason I'm stuck here?!" Horace growled, glaring daggers at the detective.

"Join the club, boy." Manfred nonchalantly chimed in.

"Well, never knew I was such an inspiration to the kids!" Gant jovially replied with a clap of his hands. "But that's beside the point, see that man over there?" The orange cladded detective asked as he pointed the ever-glaring Manfred.

"The guy that looks like Dracula?" Fulbright innocently asked.

"That's it!" Manfred roared as he pulled out his stun gun and charged towards the justice-loving boy, but was stopped through the combined efforts of Edgeworth holding his waste and Gant extending his arm and pressing against the prosecutor's chest, thus keeping him in place.

"Manny, he's just a kid, he's not worth it." Gant said as he flashed his friend a stern look.

"Detective Gant's right, sir. I don't think it would be wise to create another incident after what happened in Blue Bluejay."

"Fine…" Manfred growled as he returned his stun gun to his pocket.

"Now, what was I saying…?" Gant cocked his head to the side as he collected his thoughts. "Ah, right…! That man's Prosecutor von Karma, my partner-in-crime. I may arrest the criminals and gather up evidence for their trials, but Manny here uses that evidence to get them locked up for a long time."

"So that makes him a warrior of justice as well!" Fulbright excitedly proclaimed.

"Exactly." Gant leaned forward to whisper the next part in the lad's ear. "Now, don't tell anyone, but some Cohdopian terrorists planted a bomb at the 18th hole. Normally, we'd just evacuate the place and send in our experts to diffuse the it, but these Cohdopians are a determined bunch and will outright detonate the bomb the second they get wind of the police getting involved. That's why Manny and I are working undercover as tourists playing putt-putt- to get to the bomb and diffuse it without anyone getting hurt. However, our cover will get blown if we don't play all the holes in order, so it would really help us out if you hurried up and took your turn."

"But the oyster…"

"The damage that oyster's capable of is nothing compared to that bomb, Fully. So hurry up and take your turn before this place blows like Franny-Banany's temper!"

"What are you talking about, Detective Damon Gant? Are you talking about me?" Franziska asked as she poked at the hunched over detective with the head of her golf club, almost as if out of instinct.

"Oh, it's nothing, Franny-Banany. I'm just givin Fully here a pep talk." Gant replied before resuming whispering to the adolescent lad. "So can you please be a team player and just take your turn."

"You can count on me, Detective Gant! In justice we trust!" Fulbright jovially exclaimed, extending his arm out with a clenched hand as if he was holding an invisible object.

"What are you doing?" Franziska asked as she shot the justice-loving teen a perplexed look.

"Oh, I'm practicing the pose that I'll use when I become a police officer and showing people my badge! Pretty impressive, huh?"

"It's foolish and sad." Franziska curtly responded.

"Well, maybe this will impress you, little lady…" Fulbright grabbed his golf club- a medium-sized one with its head covered in bubble wrap- that he had leaning against the giant oyster. "My Putter of Justice!"

"Just take your turn before I introduce you to my Riding Crop of Justice." Franziska wryly commented as she brandished her trusty weapon.

"Okeydokey!" Fulbright chirped as he went to the start of the hole and gently placed his yellow ball on the ground.

"Fore!" Fulbright yelled as he gently tapped his ball with so little energy that it didn't even make it up the ramp, causing it to roll back down. "Fore!" The adolescent yelled again before tapping his ball once more, causing it to roll slightly up the ramp before returning to its original position. "Ok, this time I've got this! Fore!" Fulbright yelled as tapped the ball a third time, resulting in it returning to him a third time.

For the next five minutes, the cycle of Fulbright yelling 'Fore!', tapping the ball, and it returning to him continued without any signs of ending, causing the members of the von Karma family to growl at the grinning teen, their glares boring into his soul as they used every ounce of their will to keep from teaming up and beating him into oblivion. Even Gant, who was hailed for his near-endless wellspring of patience, was starting to get a little perturbed as he shot the lad one of his stares before finally speaking up.

"Uh, Fully, you mind speeding things up and, I don't know, try hitting the ball a little harder?"

"And risk hurting someone? Never!" Fulbright snarled as he held up a clenched fist.

"Did you forget what we talked about just a few minutes ago? Y'know, the reason Manny and I are here…?"

"I know, but if we neglect safety, then we are no better than the animals, Detective Gant! "

"But the mission…" Gant sternly stated.

"Don't worry, sir, I'll be done faster than you can say 'In justice we trust!'" Fulbright jovially proclaimed before resuming his irritating cycle.

After another ten minutes of dealing with the annoyingly idealistic adolescent's inability to hit his ball up the ramp, Manfred decided to take matters into his own hands. So, without even a second of hesitation, the veteran prosecutor took out his stun gun and jabbed it into Fulbright's side, causing the justice-obsessed lad to let out an effeminate wail before falling to the ground unconscious, his limp body slightly twitching from the shock.

"I'm free! Thank you!" Horace rejoiced as he wasted no time in fleeing from the mini-golf course.

"Don't give me that look, Gant." Manfred stated with crossed arms upon noticing the detective's infamous stare. "We both know that was only way to get him to stop."

"What are you talking about, Manny? I didn't see anything wrong." Gant innocently replied as he winked at his childhood friend.

"Are you blind, Detective Gant? Mr. von Karma shocked that guy into submission!" Edgeworth objected, always trying to be the morally-sound member of the family… outside of his studies, that is.

"That's crazy talk, Worthy. Fully was just hit with a baseball, is all…" The orange-cladded detective stated matter-of-factly as he took a baseball out of his pocket and placed it next to the incapacitated teenager.

"This is why I keep you around, Gant." Manfred replied with a sinister grin, warranting a shocked look from Edgeworth.

"I can't believe this! You both are defenders of justice, yet you're behaving no differently from the criminals you strive to put behind bars! This is-"

Edgeworth was quickly silenced by his mentor slamming the grip of his golf club against the ground. "I'm sorry, Miles, did you want to be zapped as well?"

"And lashed?" Franziska chimed in as she brandished her riding crop.

"No, but-" The maroon-cladded adolescent was cut off by Gant giving him his usual unnerving stare.

"… Don't try to be a hero, Worthy- I've got an extra baseball." The detective sinisterly smirked as he pulled another baseball out of his pocket. "Now, what did you see…?"

"I saw… Bobby Fulbright get hit with a baseball." Edgeworth sighed upon realizing that he was fighting a losing battle.

"Good boy!" Gant jovially replied as he returned the baseball to his pocket. "Now, before we get back to the game…" The detective held his golf club up to Manfred's face. "You know the drill, Manny."

Manfred snarled as he once again gave Gant's putter a quick kiss on the head.

Fortunately for the group, they were able to breeze through the hole with little difficulty, with Gant receiving yet another hole in one and the von Karma family all receiving holes in two. Normally, Manfred would be quite livid over such results, but after the day he had been having, his real victory would be just finishing the game. Plus, his slight faltering helped to spare the group as a whole from the irritation and agony of a Franziska temper tantrum. After all, misery enjoys company.

* * *

The final hole, _I Only Have Eyes for Igloo_ , was simple in concept: The player would hit their ball down a with slope covered with plastic snow mounds which lead to a flat area coated in powdered snow with the hole smack dab in the center, along with a human-sized statue of an Eskimo staring dreamily at his plastic igloo behind him- hence the hole's name.

"Manny, I'm going to need you to kiss my putter twice for this hole." Gant stated as he played with his hair.

"And why's that, Gant?" Manfred sternly asked, the faintest of grins spreading across his face.

"It's an igloo, Manny!" Gant wailed in an over-the-top manner as he gestured to the structure in question. "We can't underestimate it!"

"In that case, perhaps I should kiss it three times. After all, we are dealing with the unholy power of the igloo." Manfred sneered as he quickly kissed his friend's golf club three times, much to the confusion of his two young wards.

"Am I missing something, Mr. von Karma?" Edgeworth asked, cocking his head in confusion. "Because for as long as I've known you, the only time you fun around is when you're belittling a defense attorney."

"It's an inside joke between me and Gant, Miles." Manfred stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, Worthy! You see, ever since last winter, Blaisie gets furious whenever he sees an igloo. No joke! Whether it's in person, in a t.v. show, or even just a picture, Blaisie starts yelling and going on a long, emotional rant about how igloos are evil and mustn't be underestimated. That's why whenever me and Manny see one, we can't help but joke about it."

"Well, stop acting so foolishly, Papa! I wanna win!" Franziska whined with a stomp of her foot as she bent her riding crop.

"Fine. Take your turn Franziska."

"With pleasure…" The silver-haired girl smirked.

* * *

"Hole in one, hole in one, I got a hole in one, so I won!" Franziska condescendingly sang as the group returned their golf clubs at the booth. "Take that, Little Brother! I got a hole in one and you didn't!"

"True, I may have gotten my ball in the hole in two strokes on that last one, but I still have more holes in one than you overall." Edgeworth smirked.

"But I beat you at the final hole, and a victory's a victory no matter how small!" The silver-haired girl boasted with a finger waggle.

"Then in that case, I have more victories than you." Edgeworth sneered with outstretched arms.

"You always have to find a way to foolishly ruin my victories, Miles Edgeworth!" Franziska snapped as she lashed her adopted brother with her rising crop.

"I'm your brother, Franziska. If I'm not giving you a hard time, I'm not doing my job."

"Well, you're doing a wonderful job of being a fool." Franziska grumbled with crossed arms.

"Enough bickering, you two. It's time to go over the scores!" Gant excitedly stated as he pulled a yellow scorecard out of his pocket. "In first place, with 18 points is yours truly. Thanks for the help, Manny!"

"None of you will breathe a word of this to no one." Manfred growled, glaring daggers at the others to emphasize his point.

"And coming in second, with a total of 20 points is- Hey, where are you going, Manny? Don't you want to know the rest of the results?" Gant asked as he noticed Manfred, with his young wards following closely behind him, grabbing the car door they had previously left and walking towards the parking lot.

"I want to return to the beach house. Now!" Manfred roared, slamming the car door on the ground for punctuation as he would his cane.

"Alright, alright, you win, Manny. I'll take you three back to Blaisie's beach house. But first…" Gant took out his cellphone and snapped a picture of the igloo before sending it in a text message to Blaise with the caption 'Thinking of you :D'. "A little gift for Blaisie!" The orange-cladded detective chuckled as he, Manfred, and the youths returned to his car.

* * *

Meanwhile, Blaise was in his home office, sitting back in his large, black leather chair as he talked on his cellphone with Patricia Roland.

"You locate that brat?"

"Not yet, Blaise." Patricia said with an exasperated sigh.

"What the hell are you doing to me, Rolland?! Do you want our plans to come crumbling down?!" Blaise snarled, gripping the phone with one hand while using the other to cause a plume of fire to erupt from his lighter.

"I'm trying my best! No matter how much I question the children, they have no idea where little Simon ran off to!"

"Y'know, you're too soft on them. If you want, I could come over there and do some interrogations myself, y'see. Yep, a few minutes with me and Mr. Lighter and those brats will tell me all of their dirty little secrets." Blaise replied with a grin, imagining the fun he'd have seeing the children cry.

"That won't be necessary, Blaise, the children are telling the truth."

"How can you tell?"

"Simple. Every night since Simon ran away, I've sent my babies to search every inch of this city and even they're coming up dry!"

"Y'know, I doubt your stupid foxes are the best tools for finding this kid."

"How _dare_ you!?" Patricia shrieked. "I'll have you know that my babies are far more capable than any human. Plus, they're just so cute!"

Blaise let out an exasperated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Who needs enemies when I have an accomplice like you?"

"Oh, like you're leading the search?"

"Hey, I'm doing my part. Y'see, I've been sending my henchmen to-" Blaise was cut off as he felt his phone vibrating, signaling that he has received a text message. "I'll call you back in a bit, Rolland. I just received a message, y'see? Maybe one of my guys finally caught the little bastard."

Upon ending the call, Blaise glared daggers at his cellphone upon seeing Gant's text.

"Damn you, Gant, you smug bastard." Blaise grumbled as he began to play with his lighter. "Y'know, you and von Karma may make fun of my disdain for igloos, but if it wasn't for those damn ice cube huts, I wouldn't have to spend my nights searching high and low for some kid with the help of a woman who loves her foxes a bit too much. Y'see, I could be using that time on grander pursuits- like maintaining my hog, or adding a new woman to the collection, or crushing Sebastian's self-esteem. I-"

Suddenly, Blaise's train of thought was interrupted by his door bell ringing, prompting the Chief Prosecutor to emerge from his office and head over to his front door, which upon opening, he found an adolescent boy with long, red hair going down to his shoulders standing before him holding a pizza box. Though much to Blaise's confusion, the boy's demeanor quickly changed from one of calmness- a smile and closed eyes- to one of fear as he held the box so that the only visible part of his face were his wide, terror-filled eyes.

"Hey, hold the box horizontally, kid. I don't want my meat-lovers pizza getting all soggy, y'see?" Blaise growled, prompting the boy to quickly shove the box into the Chief Prosecutor's hands before running back to his bike as fast as his legs could carry him and pedaling off into the night as if his life depended on it.

"What the hell was his problem? …Oh well, at least I don't have to pay for the pizza." Blaise noted as a toothy grin spread across his face.

As Blaise reentered his house, Sebastian- who was wearing blue footie pajamas with the phrase 'Little Boy, Big Idiot' written on the front in big, block letters with black marker- rushed over to his father.

"Hi, Poops!" Sebastian chirped, looking up at his father with eyes filled with joy and admiration and receiving a glare of disdain and disappointment in return.

"*Sigh…* It's Pops, Sebastian, not poops. But what do you want?" Blaise groaned, internally cursing his late wife for producing him such a disappointing heir.

"I see you got a plaza…"

"Yep, my personal favorite, meat-lover's. What about it?"

"Can I have a splice?"

"Me? Give _you_ a slice of _my_ pizza…?" Blaise hunched over for a brief moment as he was overwhelmed with laughter; but as quickly as this outburst arose, it quickly ended as his face returned to its default stoic expression. "Y'know, that was a pretty good joke, Sebastian. Maybe you could make a name for yourself in comedy- maybe as an idiotic standup comedian or a rodeo clown…" Blaise grinned as he imagined Sebastian getting gored and trampled by a raging bull.

"But Popes, I'm being serious!" Sebastian wailed, tears streaming down his cheeks as his emotions overwhelmed him to the point of forgetting his father's previous correction in regards to his title.

"Sebastian, pizza is reserved for people that I respect and/or love- two things that a little reject like you couldn't hope to achieve in a million years, y'see?" Blaise curtly stated as he played with his lighters. "So with that in mind, you might as well give up, shut up, and go back to the kitchen and finish your dinner."

"I can't! The cinnamon-coated saltimes make my throat burn!" Sebastian whined.

"Y-Y'know, there… there are children in Africa who would kill for that kind of meal! And here you are, t-throwing it away in the hopes of stealing your old man's pizza! It… It's enough to bring a tear to my eye…" Blaise wept as he tugged on his fake beard before emptying his goggles. "So, little reject of my loins, I'd suggest you appreciate what you've got by getting back in that kitchen and finishing your dinner before I change your dessert from a stale doughnut that I found behind the breakroom fridge to something hotter on the tongue…" Blaise growled as a pillar of fire erupted from his lighter.

"W-Whatever you say, Props!" Sebastian timidly replied before scurrying back to the kitchen, but not before slipping on the hardwood floor and falling face down on the ground and bursting into tears and wailing at the top of his lungs.

"I hate kids…" Blaise snarled as he took his pizza back to his office, slamming the door behind him before locking it.

* * *

 **A/N:** Normally, I like to reply to reviews via PMs, but since these two were submitted by guests (or a single person using two different names), I'll be replying to them here.

 **Sal Manella:** While the Ace Attorney series may reflect real life in a multitude of ways, you must remember that at the end of the day it is still a video game series, and as such, many liberties can be taken for the sake of story progression- particularly in regards to the injuries. These include, but are not limited to, Phoenix falling off Dusky Bridge and into Eagle River and only getting a cold, Phoenix getting hit by a speeding car, getting launched 30 feet, stopping only when his head hit a telephone pole, and only receiving a sprained ankle, and Maya, a 5'1" 17 year-old girl, getting shocked by Manfred's stun gun and only being rendered unconscious. So with those facts in mind, we can safely assume that if Manfred used his stun gun on Edgeworth or Franziska, they'd merely be knocked out, with severe injures only resulting if the plot demands it.

Yes, the concrete room belongs to Blaise's son, Sebastian. In _Investigations 2_ , Blaise does not even try to hide the fact that he hates Sebastian and has absolutely no respect for him as a person, taking every opportunity he can to belittle his son and crush his self-esteem. So if Blaise won't hesitate to straight up call Sebastian a useless moron on multiple occasions in public, one can only imagine the kind of stuff that went on behind closed doors.

Speaking of Blaise, in regards to your question of why Manfred doesn't just take down or cover up the disturbing painting, the reason is due to the possibility of getting caught. You see, Blaise is a very powerful and influential man with many enemies. So with that in mind, Manfred knows that there is a strong possibility that Blaise's house is filled to the gills with hidden cameras and sensors and that if he were to move anything, chances are that Blaise would quickly find out and not hesitate to deliver swift and harsh punishment.

In regards to the finger print portion of the story, had Franziska's dress been dusted for prints, Edgeworth's would have been found from when he put his hand on her back moments prior. Thus, Franziska would have been able to easily argue that Edgeworth forced her to search through the cabinets after pushing her, resulting in him being punished. As for how Franziska managed to overpower Edgeworth, you'd be amazed at what can be accomplished with a riding crop and enough anger.

 **Deid Mann:** Well, Klavier was six, and six year-olds tend to be brats. And while Kristoph may come off as posh and refined, when he's on a mission for retribution, he's not afraid to unleash his inner brute, as seen with how he murdered Zak with a bottle of grape juice.


	8. Manfred, the Birds, and the Bees

**A/N:** Worry not, dear readers, I'm not dead. Though if my workload over the past month and the stress that came with it were physical objects, I would have been crushed long ago. Anyways, I hope that this new chapter was worth the wait.

For the sole new character in this chapter…

 **Palaeno: 26**

* * *

On the leather couch in the beach house, Franziska slept soundly while snuggled beneath a thick, red blanket that her father had found in the master bedroom's closet. Sure, it strangely reeked of bleach, but it was better than nothing. But neither the smell of the blanket nor the fact that she was foolishly sleeping on a foolish couch could change the fact that Franziska was having one of the happiest dreams of her life.

Unlike her normal 'happy' dreams, which consisted of her utterly dominating her enemies in some form of heated competition, followed by them groveling at her feet, this dream was surprisingly calm. Franziska was in a sun-drenched field that extended as far as the eye could see, giggling in delight as Edgeworth pushed her on a swing with von Karma-grade perfection- not so soft that she felt bored, but not so hard that she feared that she'd be flung off. It was just right and for once she was proud of her little brother. But soon, Franziska, as most young girls her age, desired more.

"Push me harder, Little Brother!" Franziska chirped, arching her head back to stare at her grinning adopted brother with a glimmer of joy in her eyes,

"But Franziska, if I do that, you could get hurt. And if that were to happen, I'd never be able to forgive myself." Edgeworth morosely stated, his warm, jovial expression being replaced with a furrowed brow and a concerned frown.

"Don't be such a foolishly foolish fool, Miles Edgeworth! I'm a big girl, I'll be fine!" Franziska proclaimed with a smirk.

"If you say so, Big Sister…" Edgeworth reluctantly replied as he gradually started to push the swing harder and harder with each round, causing Franziska's overall height to increase as she could see more and more of the field.

Though sure enough, after a particularly powerful push from her adopted brother, Franziska was flung off the swing, her body flipping like an acrobat as she soared high into the air past the clouds. But unfortunately, what goes up, must come down, and this dream was no different- a lesson the silver-haired girl quickly learned as she plummeted towards the ground, screaming in terror as she covered her eyes, bracing her body for the inevitable impact. But suddenly, Franziska's fall was gently halted as she landed in something soft, yet firm; and upon uncovering her eyes, the young aspiring prosecutor found herself staring up at her 'little' brother's relieved face as she laid in his strong arms.

"Are you alright, Franziska?" Edgeworth tenderly asked.

"Y-Yes…" Franziska stuttered, her cheeks reddening as she noticed just how handsome her adopted brother looked- his face was chiseled and smooth like a marble statue, his charcoal hair glistened in the sun like a knight's mighty armor, and his grey eyes exuded both the strength and serenity of a mighty mountain. Franziska then found herself nestling her head in the crook of Edgeworth's neck, hugging her 'little' brother as tightly as she could, until she was suddenly interrupted by a powerful downpour of rain which snapped her out of the dream.

Quickly sitting up as she gripped the blanket, the aspiring prosecutor found herself panting and drenched in a cold sweat.

"Curse that foolishly foolish girl, putting foolishly foolish thoughts of Miles Edgeworth in my head…!" Franziska snarled. "Why, if I ever see her again, I'll- Wait, why do my pants feel wet? The silver-haired girl asked herself as she reluctantly lifted up the blanket to find out.

* * *

Meanwhile, Manfred was having his own sleeping issues since his covers were being used to cover up the lewd Blaise/ _David_ painting opposite the bed, leaving him cold on the red satin sheets, which felt as slippery as the personality of the man who bought them. But the unfavorable conditions of the room were the least of the veteran prosecutor's worries when compared to the dream he was having.

This dream, which Manfred had had many times over, consisted of him sitting in a posh armchair in the elegant sitting room of his Dresden mansion, the stern faces of his forefathers, perfect prosecutors in their own right whose portraits lined the room's walls, were watching him. But Manfred didn't pay any mind to their furrowed brows and stoic expressions, instead focusing on the baby Franziska in his arms who was swaddled from head-to-toe in a teal cloth, with the only exposed part of her body being her mouth.

"Franziska, you may be too young to realize this, but you are my last hope… the last chance that I have to ensure the perfection that I and our ancestors have worked so hard to maintain lives on in the next generation." Manfred morosely stated, the heavy look of worry in his eyes the direct antithesis to his youngest daughter's innocent, smiling face. "Foolish girl, that smile would fade upon knowing the sheer weight of your destiny… But just promise me this, Franziska… Promise me that you will never stop striving for protection.

"Papa!" The infant chirped, as if to affirm her father's promise.

"So you'll fulfil your papa's wish, Franziska?" Manfred asked with a tone of restrained excitement.

"Yes. But first, I have a question for you…"

"What do you wish to know, girl?"

"Where's the body, von Karma?" Franziska sternly asked in Gregory Edgeworth's voice, the cloth once covering her face having been removed to reveal the stern visage of the deceased defense attorney.

"No! You're not supposed to be here! I killed you!" Manfred screamed, wincing back as terror filled his eyes.

"You can't kill the truth, von Karma. Now where's the body? I know that it was hidden!"

"You have no evidence of that, Edgeworth! I presented an autopsy report, remember?" Manfred retorted.

"As well as a forced confession, which you received a penalty for." Gregory sneered as his baby arm burst forth from the swaddle and aimed a pistol at his murderer. "…In addition to THIS!"

"Uuaaaaaaaargh!" Manfred roared in pain as Gregory shot his right shoulder again, causing the veteran prosecutor to drop the infant-version of his arch nemesis.

Normally, the nightmare would end at this point, but tonight was different… Instead of waking up, Manfred saw, much to his horror, Baby Gregory morphing into a towering, colossal, nude version of Blaise with the enhanced genitalia present in the beach house's paintings.

"Time to go to the beach, von Karma!" Blaise sneered in a booming voice as a giant child's shovel appeared in his hand.

"No! Never!" Manfred screamed, running away just in time to narrowly avoid being crushed by a Chief Prosecutor's weapon.

As Manfred fled from the area, the setting changed from the Dresden mansion to the beach as the veteran Prosecutor weaved back and forth to dodge Blaise's attempts to crush him beneath his mighty shovel. Noticing that he was getting nowhere, the gargantuan Chief Prosecutor snapped his fingers, causing an enormous glass of sprite to appear in his hand.

"Thirsty, von Karma?" Blaise sneered as he spilled the soda from the glass, flooding the area with the sticky, refreshing concoction of lemon and lime as Manfred floundered about to remain afloat.

Thankfully for the veteran prosecutor, he was able to climb atop a large ice cube that was floating by, thus providing him relief from the sea of soda, but not from the giant version of his boss and childhood friend who was out for his blood.

"What have I ever done to deserve this?! My only crime is being the perfect prosecutor!" Manfred yelled.

"Exactly, von Karma, which is why you need to learn your place, y'see?"

"What is that supposed to mean? Answer!" Manfred snarled.

"Y-Y'know, that's not very nice, von Karma…" Blaise whimpered as he tugged on his fake beard. "Maybe a little game will lighten your mood…" The chief prosecutor sneered as a large, flaming baseball formed in his hand. "Batter up!"

Blaise threw the baseball with tremendous power at the miniscule prosecutor before him, far too fast for Manfred to dodge out of the way from, so the veteran prosecutor just stood there, completely motionless and gripping his wounded shoulder as a feeling of terror and despair washed over his entire being.

However, before Manfred could be crushed, burned, or a combination of the two, he was suddenly whisked off the block of ice by some unknown force and found himself high above the sky in a red sleigh pulled by nine reindeer.

"Could it be…?" Manfred asked with a mixture of relief and amazement as he observed his savior's mode of transportation. "Santa, is it truly you?" The veteran prosecutor looked over to his left and noticed the rotund figure of Santa Claus, who had his back turned towards him.

"Ho ho ho! Indeed, Manfred, it is I, Santa Claus, and you need not fear Blaise while I'm around!" Santa jovially proclaimed.

"Oh, Santa!" Manfred jovially shouted as he uncharacteristically gave St. Nick a hug. "How can I ever repay you for this act of kindness?"

"Ho ho ho! Think nothing of it, Manfred. What kind of person would I be if I left the nicest man in the Prosecutor's Office to die? But do you mind doing me a little favor as a friend?"

"Anything for you, Santa. Just name it and I shall do it!" Manfred proclaimed with a childlike sense of wonder in his eyes.

"Kiss my putter, Manny." Santa commanded in Gant's voice, turning to Manfred to reveal the detective's infamous stare as he held up his putter from the putt-putt game earlier that evening.

"No, no…!" Manfred shrieked as he winced back in shock, accidentally falling out of the sleigh in the process. "Noooooooooo!" The veteran prosecutor screamed as plummeted towards the sea of soda.

At that moment, Manfred woke up from his nightmare… face up on the bedroom's hardwood floor.

"Ugh, my aching back…" Manfred groaned as he picked himself up off of the ground, leaning against the bed as he regained his composure. "At least it was only a nightmare… an awful, unspeakable nightmare, but a mere dream nonetheless. It meant nothing and shall not get in the way of me returning triumphantly to the Prosecutor's Office fully rested." The veteran prosecutor stated as he got in the bed.

However, before Manfred could drift back to sleep…

"Papa! Papa! I require assistance! It's an emergency!" Franziska shrieked, pounding on the bedroom's closed door as if she was being brutally murdered.

"Franziska, for the final time, there are no defense attorneys hiding in the coat closet. Now go to sleep." Manfred growled as he shot a death glare at the door.

"It's not that, Papa! It's worse!"

"What on Santa's green earth could possibly be worse than your irrational fear of defense attorneys?"

Manfred's question was answered as Franziska burst into the room, turning on the lights to reveal that the teal pants of her pajamas were drenched with blood.

"Help me, Papa! I'm bleeding!" Franziska wailed, gesturing to her bottom half.

"What the… What is this?!" Manfred shouted, gripping his right shoulder as his eyes bugged out. Of course, the veteran prosecutor knew what was happening with his youngest daughter- after all, he was married at one point- but he just couldn't believe that even nature itself was determined to make this beach trip the second-worst experience of his life.

"I-I don't know, Papa." Franziska whimpered with tear-filled eyes. "I- I was just sleeping, and- and I had this really nice dream… but, but then… I-I woke up, and… and found THIS!" The young girl gestured once more to her lower half. "What's happening to me, Papa? Did a foolish defense attorney put some kind of foolish curse on me? Am I going to die!?"

"No, you aren't going to die, Franziska. This is a perfectly natural occurrence that begins for girls around your age. Your body is merely going through some changes." Manfred calmly stated with crossed arms.

"R-Really?" Franziska sniffled, trying her best to hold back her tears.

"Yes. I've witnessed it in your sister, as well as your mother before she… Look, all you need to know is that you're perfectly fine." Manfred wisely avoided reminding Franziska of her mother's untimely death four years prior, because the last thing he needed was for anything to make his maturing daughter more emotionally charged.

"Why is this happening to me, Papa?" Franziska innocently asked, causing Manfred to flinch.

First the phallic portrait of Blaise, then Melons, and now the topic of menstruation? It was official: the universe and everything in it was officially against Manfred, some great cosmic imbalance created by his life having joy that had to be corrected with this accursed trip. Either that, or Gregory Edgeworth just became his guardian demon whose sole purpose was to make the veteran prosecutor's life as unpleasant as humanly possible as retribution for his untimely death and was doing an excellent job at it. But Manfred wasn't about to let the universe or Greggory have the satisfaction of beating him, so he pulled out the trump card in the deck of how to handle awkward discussions as a father.

"I'll tell you later, Franziska."

"But-"

"That topic is not a pressing matter at the moment, Franziska, dealing with the current situation is. Now, please tell me that you didn't get blood on Chief Prosecutor Debeste's couch." Manfred asked with a tone of apprehension, not because he held any contempt towards his young daughter- it wasn't like she could decide when her body would mature- but because he was legitimately terrified of how Blaise would react.

After all, this was the man who set up a grand scheme to get him a penalty just for calling his attire unfashionable, so Manfred could hardly even begin to imagine the horrors that Blaise would inflict upon him for what had transpired on this trip. Sure, he could expect to receive something along the lines of a massive pay cut, his Los Angeles mansion being bombarded with Molotov cocktails, having to babysit Sebastian day and night for an entire week, or a combination of the three solely for giving away the beach house to some seedy carney, but this… If Blaise found out that he lost his beach house, in addition to a couch that he probably spent more money on than his own son being forever ruined via stains created by blood secreted from Franziska's… 'special place', it would probably drive him over the edge and cause him to literally drive a car through Manfred's mansion, turn it around, and drive it through the mansion again before throwing Sebastian out on the porch, leaving the little nimrod in the veteran prosecutor's permanent care.

"Unfortunately, Papa, I… a big bloodstain formed where I was lying down. I'm really, really sorry." Franziska sullenly stated, her eyes aimed at the ground in shame.

"Apologizing isn't going to fix this, Franziska. Clean up that stain as quickly as you can while I make a phone call."

"Yes, Papa." Franziska said with a curtsey before leaving, only to return mere seconds after. "Papa, should I wake Miles Edgeworth and have him help me?"

"Franziska, both you and Miles have flights tomorrow morning and I am determined to prevent at least one of my wards from sullying my perfect reputation by sleeping on a plane like some filthy vagabond. Plus, you know how sound a sleeper that boy is at this time."

At that moment, Edgeworth could be heard screaming in his sleep from down the hall.

"Get away…! Get away from my father!"

"See? He's sleeping like a log. Now quit dillydallying and clean that couch."

This time, Franziska followed Manfred's orders and ran downstairs to the living room as the veteran prosecutor took his cellphone from the nearby nightstand and called the one person who he thought he'd never need help from, a person who filled him with shame and regret every time they met, a person who made him slightly understand how Blaise could hate his own son so much: his eldest daughter, Gilberta von Karma.

"Papa…?" The young woman asked with a tone of shock and confusion, as if this was merely some strange dream.

"You sound surprised, Gilberta. Don't you recognize my number?"

"Yes, but seeing it on my caller id is like a Big Foot sighting- you hear about it in whispers, yet you never see it in person."

Ok, I know that I haven't been the most active when it comes to calling you…"

"Congratulations, Papa, you've just won the award for greatest understatement of the century! Bravo to you!" Gilberta sneered as the sound of a slow, condescending clap could be heard in the background.

 _Of all the traits that girl had to inherit from her mother…_ "Don't you use that tone with me, girl! It is quite difficult to carve out time for small talk when you have to maintain a perfect prosecution record, as well as raise two children alone." Manfred growled.

"Then maybe you should of thought about that before killing Mama."

"I did not kill your mother, she died when she accidentally fell down the stairs, and I have the autopsy report to prove it."

"And I suppose that she fell on five knives on the way down, yes?" Gilberta bitterly asked.

"Those stab wounds were postmortem, Gilberta, postmortem!" Manfred snarled, once again reminded of one of the many, many reasons why he and his eldest daughter only talked during holidays and funerals, and even then with barely a sentence between them.

"Right…" Gilberta replied, her disbelief so evident that her father could hear her eyes rolling. "So why are you calling, Papa?"

"Can't a man just want to talk with his eldest daughter?"

"Since when have you ever wanted to merely talk with _anyone_ , let alone me? I may not be some super prosecuting prodigy like Miles or Franziska, but I'm not stupid. I know that you would never talk to me unless your life was hanging in the balance, and even then you'd contemplate continuing to actively avoid me."

"Don't be ridiculous, girl. I do not actively avoid you."

"Ha!" Gilberta sneered. "I'm a senior in college and you've only called me twice since I left home. I've had people who I've only known for a week call me double that amount in the course of a single day."

"Can you blame me? You're majoring in marketing, for Santa's sake! What kind of imperfect life do you plan on living?"

"A life where I'm not ruled under your iron, meglomanic fist. Now, if you're not going to tell me why you're really calling, I'm going to get back to the three research papers that I've been laboring over for the past month."

"Fine, it's Franziska, she's-"

"Of course it's Franziska! Why am I not surprised?" Gilberta venomously asked.

"Why must you always be so hostile towards your sister?"

"Hmm, let's see…" Gilberta responded, pausing as she pretended to think up a reason that had actually been at the forefront of her mind for a moment such as this. "Could it be the fact that you love her more than you love me?"

"Objection! I love both you girls and Miles equally." _Though I hate Miles much more._

"Riiight, _sure_ you do, Papa…"

"You dare doubt me?" Manfred asked in a low, foreboding tone.

"Don't be silly, Papa, I would never doubt you on this matter… because to doubt means to be unsure in any way, shape, or form, and I, for one, know with absolute certainty that you love that mini-me diva more than me!"

"Don't be so overdramatic, Gilberta. Name one time I favored Franziska over you."

"Ok, I'll compare how we each celebrated our fifth birthdays. For hers, Franziska had a nice dinner, live music from a professional cellist, a black forest cake for desert, and got a brand new outfit, complete with shoes and gloves. But what did you do for mine…?"

"Quite your whining, you unappreciative child. I did plenty for your fifth birthday."

"Yes, Papa, because as we all know, giving your eldest child a muffin from the Prosecutor's Office for her meal and a hole punch for a present is the epitome of birthday time joy." Gilberta wryly retorted. "What five-year-old wants a hole punch for their birthday? What were you expecting me to do with it?"

"I was hoping that as a von Karma, you would use it to help you organize files- something that Franziska was able to do perfectly when she was that age."

"And don't even get me started on our wardrobes. Sure, you've always had the deranged need for us to wear only a single outfit for both casual and formal occasions, but they were never equally bad. Franziska always got a sleek, sleeveless shirt and matching skirt, giving her a stylish, elegant look, while I had to wear some Laura Ingalls-style dress that made me look like some prairie hick midwife with a Dr. Evil color scheme!"

"Ok, I get it, you dislike your younger sister…" Manfred groaned as he put a hand to his forehead. "But if you're going to be so emotional, I might as well end the call here."

"No, Papa, now I'm curious. Just what exactly is wrong with the little princess?"

"Franziska just started menstruating, it's too late to call her pediatrician, and I don't know what females do to get through their… 'special time'."

"Wow, Papa, I don't know whether to feel sorry for you or laugh." Gilberta sneered. "I mean, how many formerly-married men with two daughters can be so clueless on this subject?"

"What do you expect? Your mother more or less locked herself away during her time of the month and she was in charge of dealing with yours. This is an entirely unprecedented experience for me."

"Well, have you tried looking up information on the internet? Sure, your outfit may be older than dirt, but I'm sure you've used a computer before."

"Gilberta, you know fully well that the internet is where slack-jawed, braindead fools go to post whatever foolish nonsense comes out of their mouths- hardly befitting of our family. So tell me what I need to do to get Franziska through this arduous time without much hassle."

"Ok, Papa, if you say so…" Gilberta responded with a hint of mischievous glee in her voice. "First things first, buy menstrual pads, and lots of them. If you don't, any room Franziska sits down in will turn into a crime scene. Next-"

"Wait, I have to write this down." Manfred curtly stated as he went over to his pants, which were neatly folded in his suitcase, and took out a pen and notepad to write down his daughter's advice. "Go on."

"Now, don't give her anything unhealthy. Franziska is going to begging for junk food- chips, chocolate, soda- at one point or another, but do not, and I repeat do not, give in and let her have any! Giving a girl on her period any kind of unhealthy food is like feeding a gremlin after midnight- sure, it looks cute at first and you get a warm, fuzzy feeling, but a few seconds later you're face-to-face with a monster that will make your life a living hell. And for that matter, if she starts complaining about stomach cramps, do not give her any medicine. Those stomach cramps are there for your protection- you get rid of those, and Franziska will not hesitate to rip your face off like a deranged helper monkey."

"Right..." Manfred replied as he finished recording this final bit of information. "Thank you for the information, Gilberta. Perhaps there's still hope for you to be a mediocre von Karma yet."

"Don't mention it, Papa. Just follow my advice to a T and this 'special' time won't be so bad." _It'll be much, much worse…_ "Bye, Papa."

"Goodbye, Gilberta." Manfred stated as he ended the call. "Now, to see how Franziska is doing with that couch."

* * *

When Manfred entered the living room, he was greeted to the sight of a large pool of water forming on the living room floor around a bucket flipped on its side; and near the center of it stood Franziska, bent over and sobbing as she tried her best to rub out the crimson stain on the couch with a rag, but to no avail.

"Franziska, what is… _this_!?" Manfred roared, gesturing to the waterlogged area, prompting Franziska to turn around and face him with tear-filled, bloodshot eyes.

"I'm sorry, Papa! I-I-I'm sorry! I tried to rub out the blood with this rag, but it wouldn't come out! And… And then I turned around and foolishly knocked over the bucket, causing the water to spill out everywhere!" The young girl wailed as she ran over to her father and gave him a hug- something that had never before happened in the von Karma household, causing Manfred to stiffen like a board. "I'm sorry that I'm such a foolish failure, Papa!"

Even though Franziska was going through the tribulations of becoming a woman, Manfred didn't care about that kind of nonsense. He had a bullet lodged in shoulder for the past seven years, yet he didn't complain. He was the perfect prosecutor and would not let such menial trivialities such as pain and emotions get to him. Manfred felt that if he could do it, there was no excuse that his family couldn't either and would not stand for their grumbling. Essentially, Manfred von Karma was the last person any woman would want near them during their time of the month because he would give them as much comfort and support as he would a defense attorney, that is to say none. So suffice to say, it wouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that Manfred's late wife would give him the nickname 'Dr. Do-so-little' when her monthly visitor came knocking- a nickname the veteran prosecutor didn't mind as long as she wasn't too emotional.

"As you should be. I don't care if your body is going through changes that I'd rather not talk about; I expect more grace from someone of von Karma lineage. I swear, if I didn't lose my coat, and by extension my stun gun, you would be on the receiving end of it for your utter incompetence."

"What do you expect? I'm a nine-year-old girl who feels bloated and has stomach cramps! And it doesn't help that you're always foolishly making me anxious because of your unrealistic standards! I mean, do you foolishly expect me to know how to clean anything when I've spent my entire life in a house filled with perfectly capable servants? That's like me telling you to do the laundry and yelling at you for shrinking all the clothes! Bad Papa!" Franziska yelled as she lashed her father with her riding crop.

"Did… Did you just hit me with your riding crop?" Manfred growled, unable to believe that his normally obedient, albeit emotionally charged, daughter actually struck him like some filthy street peasant.

"Yes, because you were acting foolish!" Franziska snapped as she bent her riding crop before breaking down into tears again. "I'm sorry, Papa! I'm… I'm just upset because I can't clean the couch!" The silver-haired girl's mood changed yet again, this time from crying her eyes out to an excited grin. "But now that you're here, Papa, I know that we can get this couch cleaned in no time! After all, you're the perfect prosecutor and papa! Come on!"

"O-Ok…" Manfred replied as he hesitantly trudged through the water to the couch. Sure, he was not one to normally feel anxiety, but Franziska just went through three different emotions in the course of about 30 seconds and the veteran prosecutor was legitimately fearful for his life.

Upon reaching the couch, Manfred proceeded to take a good, long look at the smeared bloodstain in order to get an idea of what he was dealing with… and what he was dealing with was the impossible.

"So, Papa, can you remove that stain?"

"Alas, Franziska, this is beyond even my perfection… which is why we aren't going to clean it."

"But won't Unky Boo Boo be mad about it?" Franziska asked, cocking her head to the side in confusion.

"Not if he doesn't see it." Manfred said with a sinister grin, proud of himself for the idea that had just popped into his mind.

"What do you mean, Papa?"

"If we merely flip the cushion over, Chief Prosecutor Debeste won't know-" Manfred stopped midsentence as he flipped over the cushion to discover an even larger dried bloodstain on the other side. "Seriously, Debeste?" The veteran prosecutor rhetorically asked, glaring daggers at the cushion as if that would magically make it pristine.

"That's a lot of blood. Did Unky Boo Boo's body start changing, too?" Franziska innocently asked.

"No, Franziska. What you're going through only occurs in women." _Though since this is Debeste we're talking about, that blood could have very well come from a woman, knowing what constitutes that lunatic's sick version of a one-night stand._

"That's so foolish!" Franziska snarled as she bent her riding crop. "So you're saying that I'm bleeding from below the waste, as well as feeling hot and bloated, while men don't have to?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's no fair!" Franziska pouted with a stomp of her foot.

"You want to talk about fair? I'm a perfect prosecutor whose only crime is doing his job properly, yet I was forced to take a daytrip and experience the second-worst day of my life. I have been physically assaulted, robbed of my clothes, and had to kiss the filthy putter of a foolishly happy-go-lucky detective that doesn't know when to leave me alone. So you have no room to talk about fair, girl. Now get dressed, we're leaving in ten minutes to get you supplies at a pharmacy."

"But Papa, I'm feeling faaat! I don't want people to see me like this!" Franziska whined.

"You are not fat, Franziska. You look as healthy as always." Manfred groaned as horrible memories of his late wife having similar concerns came rushing back, causing his daughter to burst into tears. "What now?"

"You think I'm fat! You've always thought that I was fat and you've foolishly never told me!" Franziska roared, her face becoming noticeably red.

"Don't be ridiculous, girl. If you've been following the eating and exercise regiments that I've set in motion for you, your body should be perfect."

"Yeah, perfectly fat! I hate you Papa…!" Franziska wailed as tears streamed down her cheeks. "And I want chips, and candy, and ibuprofen for my aching stomach!"

"You are not having any of the sort, Franziska. The last thing you need in your current state is sugar."

"Because I'm such a foolishly fat pig, right? Is that it, Papa!? Am I a foolishly fat fool who disappoints you?!" The silver-haired girl snarled as she bent her riding crop, prompting Manfred to take a step back out of fear of his daughter.

Sure, Franziska was only nine-years-old, but at the moment she was far worse than his late wife or Gilberta ever were during their times of the month. At worst, they would spout a few angry, sarcastic comments and lock themselves away for extended times, but they would never actually threaten, or actually use, violence on him. So with that in mind, Manfred had to change up his strategy and employ a method that he was never too fond of using: trickery.

"No, Franziska, you are far from a disappointment. I merely advise against you indulging in sugary confections so that you can _maintain_ your perfect body." Manfred stated, patting the air with his hand as a safer substitution for patting his emotionally charged daughter's shoulder.

"Oh… Well, I still want sugar, and something to help with these cramps I'm dealing with." Franziska replied, though much more calmly than before, as she lightly gripped abdomen, much to her father's relief.

"Ok, but in order for me to do that, I have to go out to a pharmacy, but I can't leave you here alone in your current state. So I need you to get dressed and come with me in about ten minutes after we clean up this water. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, Papa. But how are we going to get to the pharmacy since your car was stolen at the boardwalk? Is Detective Damon Gant going to drive us there?"

Manfred could already imagine the horrors that outing would yield. Gant would spend the entire car ride explaining the birds and the bees to Franziska by describing several cases of date rape he had handled over the years. Then, once they arrived at the pharmacy, the driftwood detective would spend a good half-hour looking a pool toys, wondering if he should buy an inflatable crocodile or a smiling whale that he'd name 'Baby Beluga'. And so, if the veteran prosecutor had any say in plans for that night, he would make it his primary goal to keep Gant as far away from him and Franziska as humanly possible.

"No, Detective Gant would only serve to slow us down. That's why I'm going to be calling a taxi for the purpose of driving us there, and then driving us back here when we've gotten what we need."

"That's a perfect idea, Papa!" Franziska chirped.

"Of course it is, girl. I came up with it." Manfred smirked. _Or at least it should be._

* * *

After taking the time to mop up the water in the living room and get dressed, though for shoes, the veteran prosecutor had to settle to wearing a pair of galoshes in Blaise's closet, as well as making sure to grab his emergency credit card and $50, Manfred and Franziska made their way out of the beach house- the young girl leading the way as her father locked up the front door- and made their way to the yellow taxicab parked at the end of the driveway.

During his time as a prosecutor, Manfred had heard about many horrible crimes involving cab drivers- kidnapping passengers and holding them for ransom, outright stabbing them, etc.- but in his current state, Manfred would have rather taken his chances with the crazed, Satanist cabby from _Ghost Dad_ than spend another minute of this wretched day with Gant. But unfortunately for the veteran prosecutor, little did he realize he would be indeed experience a hellish cab ride.

Upon getting in the back of the vehicle with Franziska, Manfred quickly noticed that the driver was not your typical cabby. For unlike most drivers who had a gruff, hardened look to them, his was soft- smoothly shaven face, shoulder-length, thick blond hair as golden as the sun, and a smile even brighter, making him resemble a character from a fairytale. Adding to this image was his outfit, a white dress shirt beneath a sleeveless green-plaid sweater and a teal bowtie, making him resemble some kind of forest elf one would find in a _Lord of the Rings_ novel.

"Hello, my name is Colias Palaeno, and I'll be your cab driver for this evening." The man stated in a tone so sickeningly upbeat that Manfred couldn't help but roll his eyes- a gesture that went completely unnoticed by the driver. "So, what are your names and where am I taking you?"

"That is none of your concern, driver. All you need to know is that we desire to be taken to the nearest pharmacy." Manfred stated with crossed arms.

"Say no more!" Palaeno cheerfully proclaimed as he began driving down the road away from the beach house. "So, are you good with any pharmacy, or is there a particular chain you prefer?"

"As long as it's a pharmacy, the store doesn't matter."

"Alright! …So, nice weather tonight, isn't it?" The blond man asked, maintaining his Cheshire cat-like grin.

"Yes." Manfred curtly responded, knowing after many long years of being irritated by Gant that a person asking about the weather meant only one thing: they wanted to talk, and the last thing that the veteran prosecutor needed was to talk to some unsettlingly happy cabby that he had just met.

But unfortunately for Manfred, despite his best attempt at snuffing out the spark of conversation, Palaeno didn't need anyone to start a conversation.

"So, want to know anything about me?" The blond cabby asked, oblivious to the fact that veteran prosecutor was giving him a glare that reeked of refusal.

"No." Manfred growled, looking over to his right to see Franziska leaning against the door and groaning with her eyes closed, leaving him to deal with this foolishly upbeat man alone.

"Don't be shy, I'm more than happy to tell you all about myself!" Palaeno beamed. "I graduated from the University of Cohdopia with a degree in political science in the hopes of becoming the greatest ambassador in Cohdopian history. However, if I am to have any hope in achieving that dream, I need to first understand the cultures of all the major world powers. That is why I have been traveling the globe, living in different countries for months at a time while working in their service industries- a waiter in a Parisian café, a fishmonger in Shanghai, an operator of an Amsterdam brothel... And I have to say, I have thoroughly enjoyed all of the countries I've stayed in! They're all so fascinating and pleasant in their own unique ways, filled to the brim with kind people who are so enjoyable to be around, and my time in your nation has been no exception!"

"I am currently a German citizen." Manfred curtly pointed out, hopping that would perhaps stop the enthusiastic cabby from going on a pro-American lecture that would put Blaise's jingoism to shame.

"Don't worry, I'm not a citizen here either, but that hasn't stopped me from enjoying all that this country has to offer! And let me tell you, this country has something to offer around every corner! Everything is just so big- the large portions, the sodas with lots of ice, the complaints, the rampant childhood obesity, and the girls with big, bouncy tatas and trunks that contain a lot of junk, to name a few! The only small things I've seen here are the skirts on said bouncy girls and the patience of the drivers. Let me tell you, we don't have anything like that back in Cohdopia! And don't get me started on your units of measurement! It's just so exotic how the people have so vehemently refused the convenience of metric system for so long! Now, I know most foreigners give Americans a hard time over it, but not me! So when the icecaps melt and we need another Ark, I'm coming to the U.S.A, because while the rest of the world is busy converting measurements from cubits to meters, you'll be hoisting anchor!"

"In which case, I know who'll be the third person I throw overboard." Manfred wryly commented. _On second thought, scratch that. Knowing Gant, he'll probably be swimming alongside the ship and cackling like some obnoxious dolphin. Therefore, this infuriating driver will be the second person I'll throw into the ocean, right after Debeste._

"Well, isn't that nice!" Palaeno mirthfully expressed. "You know what, Mr. Mozart-man, I like you, I really do, and I have the feeling that you and I can be good friends! Do you feel the same way?"

"That depends, in Cohdopia, does the term 'friend' refer to someone you want to punch in the face?" Manfred venomously asked.

"You're so silly!" Palaeno said with a wave of his hand. "To celebrate our newfound friendship, I'm going to sing America's moving national anthem- a song which perfectly describes the action-packed, headstrong tendencies of the people in this country."

"How is Francis Scott Key's _Star Spangled Banner_ in any way 'headstrong'?"

"Francis Scott Key? Who's that?" Palaeno asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion as a small frown formed on his face.

"The man who wrote _The_ _Star Spangled Banner_ , the United States' national anthem. How could you sing this nations' anthem if- No…" Manfred groaned as his eyes started to widen, a feeling of dread filling his being.

"America…" Palaeno sang, his smile returning.

"No, not that song, anything but that song!" Manfred snapped, knowing the lyrics the overexcited cabby was starting to sing from one too many outings with Blaise.

"America…" Palaeno repeated.

"I swear, if you continue with that vexatious song, I am jumping out of this vehicle!" Manfred snarled, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the cab's door handle with every bit of his strength.

But unfortunately for the veteran prosecutor, his threats fell on deaf ears as the blond cabby proceeded to sing the lyrics to the song _America, F*** Yeah_.

 _America, FUDGE YEAH!_

 _Coming again to save the mother fudging day yeah!_

 _America, FUDGE YEAH!_

 _Freedom is the only way yeah!_

 _Terrorists your game is through, because now you have to answer to…_

 _America, FUDGE YEAH!_

 _So please kiss my butt and shake my hand now!_

 _America, FUDGE YEAH!_

 _What will you do when we come for you now?_

 _It's the dream that we all share… It's the hope for tomorrow! FUDGE YEAH!_

"I can't take it anymore!" Manfred roared as he tried to open the door, fully prepared to roll out of the moving vehicle with Franziska in tow, but unfortunately for him, Palaeno had different plans when he engaged the child safety locks as he continued singing.

 _Child safety locks, fudge yeah!_

 _Big Willy's, fudge yeah!_

 _Lordly Tailor, fudge yeah!_

 _Swiss Rolls, fudge yeah!_

 _The NFL, fudge yeah!_

 _Hard rock, fudge yeah!_

 _The internet, fudge yeah!_

 _Pornography, fudge yeah!_

 _FUDGE YEAH…!_

With each phrase sung, Manfred banged his head against the headrest of the passenger's seat up front- an act which went completely unnoticed as Palaeno continued to sing the song.

 _Tashtegos, fudge yeah!_

 _Disney World, fudge yeah!_

 _Snackoos, fudge yeah!_

 _Viagra, fudge yeah!_

 _PIPE shoes, fudge yeah!_

 _Fake breasts, fudge yeah!_

 _Fortune cookies, fudge yeah!_

 _Burger Barn, fudge yeah!_

 _Rodeos, fudge yeah!_

 _Philosophy, fudge yeah!_

 _Liberty, fudge yeah!_

 _Pizza, fudge yeah!_

 _Coupons, fudge yeah!_

 _Band-Aids, fudge yeah!_

 _Las Vegas, fudge yeah!_

 _Christmas, fudge yeah!_

 _Hot dogs, fudge yeah!_

 _Popeye, fudge yeah!_

 _Yosemite Sam, fudge yeah!_

 _Propane, fudge yeah!_

 _Black Friday, fudge yeah!_

 _Pocket sand, fudge yeah!_

 _Books…_

"So, did I do well?" Palaeno asked upon finishing the song, as if Manfred's glare and gritted teeth weren't enough of an answer.

"You are an affront to music, as well as humanity as a whole." Manfred growled as he grabbed his aching forehead.

"Aw, I'm sorry about that." Palaeno glumly replied with a sullen expression. "Was it because I censored the verses? Because I only did that since I'm not very comfortable with cursing- my dear mama would bring out the coat hanger if she heard me using such foul language- and I in no way meant to offend by altering such powerful lyrics. So to make it up to you, I'm going to sing the song over and over again, each progressing round having more gusto than the last, until we reach your destination!" The blond cabby replied with his usual grin.

"Please don't." Manfred said with crossed arms as he squeezed his right bicep.

"Pshaw!" Palaeno said with a wave of his hand. "It'll be fun! If you just get into the spirit of the song, I promise that the time will go by in the blink of an eye!"

As the enthusiastic cabby who could give a clown hopped up on Prozac in Disney World a run for his money began singing again, Manfred look over to Franziska and slowly reached over to her in the hopes of stealing away her riding crop and using it to silence the buffoon driver the hard way. But alas, despite the immense pain the silver-haired girl was experiencing as she tried to fall asleep, her crossed arm grip on her riding crop could not be broken. So for the rest of the trip, Manfred got to hear verse after verse of that accursed song, the phrase 'Fudge yeah!' being forever imprinted upon his psyche.


	9. Motherly Vengeance

**A/N:** Ok, we're coming down to the final stretch of this story, with Manfred and his 'perfect' wards finally ending this hellish vacation experience. The next chapter will be the final one, and I am both excited and a bit sad for it.

But I digress. Here are ages for the new characters in this chapter.

 **Byrne: 36**

 **Kay: 6**

 **Cammy: 14**

* * *

Buyer's Discount Select Medicines was your typical nationwide pharmacy chain- white walls, shiny, beige linoleum floors, and aisle upon aisle filled with products you wouldn't want to buy at pharmacies, like cooking supplies, Halloween costumes, and wood sculptures of various sizes. But to Manfred, when he and Franziska walked through the automatic doors, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Heck, after having to listen to _America, F*** Yeah_ without end for a solid 20 minutes, anywhere would be Heaven by comparison, even a defense attorney's office... though that was a bit of a stretch.

"Papa, can I please sit down on that bench over there?" Franziska groaned, weakly pointing to a red metal bench off to the side.

"Fine, but don't move from there until I buy the necessary supplies."

"Trust me, Papa. I'm too fat and disgusting to go anywhere!" Franziska angrily whimpered as she slowly slinked over to the bench before flopping face down on it.

With an exasperated sigh and a slow head shake at what his once-perfect daughter had been reduced to, Manfred made his way over to the checkout counter in order to find out where in this store full of inessential wares he could find menstrual pads. However, instead of finding the line empty, as one would expect around 11:30 at night, the veteran prosecutor was filled with disdain as he saw Byrne Faraday, of all people, standing in front of him, arguing with his young, pink-cladded daughter who had her black hair cropped up in an upwards ponytail and was holding a Dracula costume.

"But, Daddy! I want it!" Kay whined in a raspy voice.

"Kay, we came to fill your amoxicillin prescription for your strep throat, not to buy Dracula outfits." Byrne stated in a calm, yet stern tone.

"But it's really cool!"

"Then I'll buy one for you closer to Halloween."

"But I want it now!"

"Why, so it can just sit in your closet gathering dust for the next five months?"

"No, I wanna wear it every day!"

"Kay, you can't wear a Dracula costume as your regular outfit. You'd look ridiculous."

"No, I'd look awesome because Dracula flies around in the night and is all cool and stealthy and stuff!"

"Kay, don't argue with me. Please put that costume back where you found it so we can pay for your medicine and go back to the condo." Byrne commanded with a slightly angrier tone.

"No! *Cough!* And there's nothing you can do to make me!" Kay pouted as she glared daggers at her father, prompting him to attempt to rip the costume out of her hands. However, Kay, being the tenacious little girl that she was, refused to let go, engaging her father in a game of tug-of-war over the costume.

"Kay, let go of the costume this instant!" Byrne snapped.

"Never! *Cough!*" Kay snarled.

"Please listen to reason." The prosecutor pleaded with a look of concern in his brown eyes. "Do you want to look like Prosecutor von Karma?"

"And just what is so wrong with how I look, Faraday?" Manfred growled with crossed arms, not ready to let some pitiful excuse of a prosecutor drag his good name and wardrobe through the mud.

"P-Prosecutor von Karma…!?" Byrne gasped in horror as he turned to face his senior prosecutor, his eyes the size of saucers and full of fear. "Ho-How long were you standing there?" _Crap! You mention his name once and he appears out of nowhere like Voldemort!_

"Long enough to hear that remark about my outfit. Now, once again, what exactly is so wrong with it?"

"Well, it was probably fashionable… back when they were signing the Declaration of Independence." Byrne joked. "But seriously, that outfit of yours is just so out of place. Speaking of which, where is your suit coat and cane? Did they finally turn to dust?"

"It's a long story that I'd rather not get into…" The perfectionist prosecutor sighed with crossed arms as he squeezed his bicep. "But back to the topic at hand, Faraday, have you looked in the mirror as of lately? My outfit may be archaic to the dregs of society, but at least it exudes prestige and power- two traits that are pivotal to a prosecutor's success. My attire strikes fear into the hearts of my opponents while you and that bandana of yours make them believe that you're going to play your guitar underneath a waterfall while singing about your feelings." Manfred sneered.

"It's called 'business casual', von Karma. You know, the fashion sense where you try to be both presentable and comfortable? But I wouldn't expect you to understand it since it was established during the 21st century, whereas your fashion sense was developed a little before fire."

"Of course you'd want to feel comfortable. After all, it must be so arduous having to be constantly ridiculed by Elton John during your little playdates."

"Oh please, your outfit's so old that you probably got it as a hand-me-down from Methuselah when he thought it was outdated."

"Yes, yes, my outfit is old. You've already beaten that topic to death." Manfred groaned with a roll of his eyes. "Now step aside so that I may attend to my business here."

"Sorry von Karma, we were here first and we aren't leaving until we pay for Kay's amoxicillin. However, I can't do that until she puts that little costume back where she found it." Byrne got down on one knee so he could look his daughter in the eye. "So Kay, won't you please return your costume so Prosecutor von Karma isn't kept waiting?"

"No!" Kay snapped with crossed arms. "And there's nothing you can do to-"

Kay was cut off as Manfred snapped his fingers, unleashing a burst of air that knocked the father/daughter duo in front of him off to the side and out of his way, parting them as Moses did the Red Sea.

"That was easy." The veteran prosecutor smirked as he took the Faradays' place in line, satisfied that he could resolve the situation without his trusty stun gun, which he had left at the beach house so it could charge.

"What the heck, von Karma? That's our spot! Give it back!" Byrne objected.

"Yeah, you big meanie!" Kay angrily chimed in.

"If you valued it so dearly, you shouldn't have been so quick to leave it." Manfred nonchalantly responded.

"'Leave!?' You ejected us from it against our freewill! How do you even knock two people back with a finger snap, anyways?! Who are you, Count Dooku?" Byrne yelled.

"Cry me a river, Faraday. You snooze, you lose- that is the ancient proverb of the von Karma family. Speaking of which…"

Manfred directed his attention to the sole cashier- an adolescent girl who had the gall to actually sleep in front of him, her shoulders slumped over, causing her long, chestnut-brown hair to cover her face.

"Excuse me, miss?" Manfred calmly stated, thought earning no response. "Miss…? Miss!" The veteran prosecutor growled, becoming more and more aggravated with the cashier with each passing second.

Eventually, having finally reached his limit, Manfred loudly snapped his fingers once more, causing the adolescent girl, whose outfit was unbuttoned at the top, revealing her ample bosom, to snap awake… though not by much, if the sleepy look on her face was of any indication.

"Hi, I'm Cammy and, like, welcome to Buyer's Discount Select Medicines. How can I help you? _If this geezer asks for a slushy, I'm spitting in it._

"Yes, do you have… pads?" Manfred awkwardly asked, preferring not to spout his daughter's personal issues to an airy child.

"Pads?" Cammy asked, cocking her head to the side in confusion. "Can you be more specific?"

"You know, pads…. that you get for young girls to…. Stop bleeding." Manfred reluctantly stated, his face becoming noticeably red as he delved into awkward territory of PMS.

"Oh, ok. I'll, like, go get them for you." Cammy said as she slowly meandered out from behind the counter and into one of the aisles. _A dad dealing with his daughter's first period, eh? I'll show him what happens when he makes me work…_

* * *

A few minutes later, Cammy had still not returned to the counter, much to Manfred's disdain. Though it didn't help the veteran prosecutor's anger one bit with Kay coughing right on his back as she and her father stood behind him.

"Faraday, make your daughter cease coughing on my person." Manfred curtly commanded, not even bothering to turn around to look at his colleague's glaring face.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you stole our place in line." Byrne angrily retorted.

"You know, Faraday, it's quite unbecoming for a prosecutor to hold such a petty grudge." Manfred ironically commented as Cammy sauntered back behind the counter. "Took you long enough. Did you get the… pads?"

"Sure did." Cammy drowsily responded as she placed a pair of _Hello Kitty_ kneepads on the counter.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, you wanted pads that stop bleeding, so I got you kneepads with a cuuu…" The busty cashier's body slumped over as she fell asleep, a snot bubble forming which expanded and contracted with each breath, but was awakened once more with another powerful finger snap from Manfred. "So, will that be all?"

"No, because you didn't get what I asked for. I need pads that prevent girls from bleeding when they… mature. Now take those ridiculous kneepads back to where you found them and bring me the product that I actually want." The veteran prosecutor ordered as he shoved the kneepads back to the sleepy cashier, who then proceeded to take them and leave the counter once more.

* * *

As Manfred was waiting for Cammy to return, Ema, who was as excitable as ever, ran into the store as Lana, with bloodshot eyes and ruffled hair that looked like a wild animal was living in it, staggered in like a zombie behind her.

"C'mon, Lana! Why you moving so slow?" Ema impatiently asked.

"Don't talk so loud, Ema…" Lana groaned as she rubbed her head. "Need… caffeine… Need… caffeine… Need… caffeine…" The young woman muttered to herself as she mindlessly shuffled down one of the aisles, completely unaware that her little sister wasn't following her.

Meanwhile, Franziska was lying on the bench; her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to get some sleep and relief from her cramps. However, that was made all the harder when she was interrupted by a jovial 'hi!' right in her ear. And sure enough, upon opening her eyes, the aspiring prosecutor opened her eyes to see the Ema foolishly getting right in her personal space.

"Go away." Franziska growled at the young girl.

"That's no way to talk to a friend." Ema objected, completely oblivious to the fact that Franziska that Franziska in no way hid her disdain for the obnoxious aspiring scientist.

"I am not your friend. Now go away before I make you go away!" Franziska snarled as she weakly whacked her riding crop against the bench, causing a faint metallic 'tang' to ring out.

Ema, in a desperate attempt to shift the conversation with her newest and only 'friend' to a more positive subject, scanned the store until something interesting caught her eye.

"Hey, look, there's Dracula!" The aspiring scientist squealed in excitement. "I thought that vampires were scientifically impossible, but yet here he is!"

"What are you foolishly blabbing on about, you foolishly foolish girl who doesn't know how to shut her foolish mouth?" Franziska snapped.

"There, at the front of the checkout line!" Ema stated as she pointed to Manfred, prompting Franziska to weakly smack the bench with her riding crop again.

"Foolish girl! That's no vampire, that's my foolish Papa that hates me because HE'S NOT GETTING ME POTATO CHIPS! WHAT'S TAKING YOU SO LONG, PAPA!? I'M DYING HERE FROM THE CRAAAAAAAAAMPS!" The silver-haired girl screamed at the top of her lungs, her face reddening as she glared daggers at her father.

"What do you think I'm doing, having tea at the marina? Be patient, girl." Manfred retorted as Cammy returned with a pack of Brillo Pads. "Brillo Pads, seriously? What in Santa's name do Brillo pads have to do with a girl bleeding when she matures?"

"Well, when a girl gets old enough and she has to help out around the house for her allowance, Brillo Pads help them clean the dishes fast so their hands don't chap and bleed." The cashier stated with a spacy look on her face.

"My daughter is a von Karma, and no von Karma would be caught dead cleaning a dish. I don't know how a person can be so inept, but… You're seriously sleeping again?" Manfred snarled as noticed Cammy slumped over again, prompting him to snap his fingers yet again to wake her up.

"Wha…" Cammy groggily replied as she wiped some loose spit from the corner of her mouth. "So, you don't want the Brillo Pads?"

"I'm going to say this slowly so that your little brain can comprehend it: I need pads that stop my daughter from bleeding… below the torso. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah... I'll go… I'll go get them for you." Cammy muttered, struggling to stay awake as she left the counter for a third time.

As the busty cashier sauntered into one of aisles, Lana, who was gulping down a can of Red Bull with one hand and carrying two small six can cases of the energy drink in the other, stepped into the checkout line behind Byrne and Kay, with the latter once again coughing on Manfred.

"Oh, that's my sister! That's Lana! Hi, Lana!" Ema chirped, shaking Franziska with one hand while energetically waving to her sister with the other, prompting the older sibling to unenthusiastically wave back.

"I. Don't. Care!" Franziska snarled.

"You sound angry." Ema stated matter-of-factly, as if this was some newfound information that no one could possibly hope to understand.

"Really, I haven't noticed… what with me having cramps and feeling fat!" Franziska sarcastically snapped.

"So, to brighten the mood and pass the time, how's about we do a Mab Lib?" Ema excitedly asked as she pulled out a pencil and a little blue book with white stripes out of her lab coat.

"I'd rather die… or see you die" Franziska groaned as she rubbed her temples.

However, as always, Ema was absorbed in her own little word, ignoring the silver-haired girl's snide comment as she flipped open the book.

"Ok. 'Jimmy was running down the street when he saw a…' I need a noun."

"Fool." Franziska curtly responded.

"'Fool…'" Ema muttered as she filled in the blank. "Alright, now this party's really getting started! So let's keep it going…!"

* * *

A few minutes later, Kristoph and Klavier entered the store, with the former- having an improved appearance from the golf course thanks to a new pair of glasses and a suit that wasn't torn-glaring daggers at his younger brother.

"Thanks for bringing me here, Khris!" Klavier jovially proclaimed.

"Look, we are not here to dilly-dally, Klavier. For every moment we are out of the condo, we increase our chances of Mother finding out and being, well… herself. Therefore, while you get what you need, I'll hold a place in line to save time. If you are not at the checkout in five minutes, I will find you and we will return to the condo emptyhanded. Understood?" Kristoph sternly asked.

"Ok, bro. Geeze, don't be so uptight just 'cause you couldn't get a date. Just think of it as us getting to spend some more quality time together!" The young boy said in a sing-songy tone as he wrapped his arm around his brother's waste, only to be pushed away.

"I would have gotten a date had that horrid girl not assaulted me, or if the heavens themselves didn't try to strike me down with that vile golf ball. Even then, it is ten to midnight, so I still have plenty of time to get a date."

"Riiight, bro..." Klavier sneered with a roll of his eyes. "Just keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better."

"Just go get your snacks, you little plebian." Kristoph venomously replied as his nuisance of a brother ran off, prompting him to make his way to the checkout line.

 _I hate it when that revolting brat is right. How am I supposed to get a date in a pharmacy store in only ten minutes? Sure, I am a king among men with an intellect ranking among the greatest minds of all time, but I am still only a mere human. I can't perform miracles._ A smirk spread across Kristoph's face as he noticed Lana standing at the back of the line. _…Or maybe I don't have to… It's go time, Kristoph- all or nothing._

After getting tapped on the shoulder, Lana slowly turned around to give whoever had the gall to bother her when she was so tired the death glare of a lifetime, only to do just that as well as snarl in contempt upon seeing that the culprit was the annoying boombox kid from the boardwalk.

"Enchanté, mademoiselle." The periwinkle-cladded adolescent said with a bow, trying to look as elegant as he could. "You look quite fetching on this fine evening."

"Look kid, I am not in the mood for any of your sad attempts to flirt with me. I just want to buy my energy drinks and go home." Lana growled as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"My, my, aren't you the feisty lass, Miss…" Kristoph said with a smirk and crossed arms.

"None of your business." The disgruntled woman curtly stated before turning her back to the periwinkle-cladded adolescent. "Now can you please stop talking to me?"

Well, excuse me for trying to start a conversation." Kristoph snapped with a scowl as he pushed up his glasses. "Is it such a crime to ask a lovely woman like yourself for her name?"

"Not as much as it is for a kid like you to come to a place like this in the middle of the night without his mommy. So why don't you just go run back to her minivan and leave me alone." Lana sneered, still keeping her back to her young suitor.

"One, I'm 15 and A HALF years old. Second, I walked here with my little brother. I am no mere child, ma'am."

"Whatever you say, kid. Whatever you say…" The tired college student snickered with a roll of her eyes.

"You know, I wouldn't be so quick to shrug me off, ma'am." Kristoph hissed.

"Oh, and why's that? Are you going to run crying to your mommy?" Lana said in a baby talk tone.

"I'll have you know that my mother would only serve to make things much worse for both sides in a conflict. No, I am Kristoph Gavin- a straight-A honor roll student and the treasurer of Cee O'cheets High School- skipping third grade, might I add- who requires no one to fight his battles for him. And one day, I'll be a big-time lawyer with so much power and money that you will be begging me to no end just to give you the time of day. So look down upon me now, for in a decade, you'll have to crane your neck to the point of straining it just to gaze upon my lofty status!"

"Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that right now you're a little kid standing in a pharmacy line." Lana wryly retorted as the periwinkle-cladded adolescent, whose face was starting to redden, glared daggers at her back, finding himself so overcome with anger that he was unable to speak.

 _Damn that heartless harlot! Damn her to whatever foul pit in Tartarus Wright calls home! Now not only am I going to have to endure playing with Klavier, I have to awkwardly stand behind this cold shell of a woman until she gets to the counter. The miracle never happen- er, happened. What is wrong with my grammar…? And what's taking that man up front so long? And why does he look like Nosferatu…?_ Kristoph mused to himself as he stuck his head out to the side to view Manfred impatiently waiting at the front of the line as Cammy returned to the counter with a box of wide Band-Aids- the kind used for larger scrapes and cuts that are more reminiscent of a notecard than a bandage.

"No." Manfred venomously stated before throwing the box at the busty cashier's head. "Try again."

"What do you mean? I got what you wanted." Cammy drowsily responded with her head cocked to the side in confusion, completely oblivious to the fact that the older customer just pelted her with a box.

"I wanted pads, not Band-Aids! In what world is a Band-Aid a pad?" The veteran prosecutor huffed with crossed arms.

"Well, the big ones kinda look like pads, and you put them on anything below the torso- knees, legs, whatever- and they stop bleeding. So it's all good, right sir?" Cammy said with heavy eyes and a big grin that made her look sedated.

"I was referring to a more… intimate… area." Manfred awkwardly stated, still embarrassed about the whole ordeal, but slowly becoming blunter with each idiotic move on the cashier's part.

"Oh, oh, I got ya… I got ya… Why didn't you say so sooner?" Cammy jovially replied in that sleepy voice of hers as if such a delicate matter was a frequent topic of conversation to her.

"Because I've never had to deal with this kind of issue with my daughter before. And it doesn't make it any easier when you keep bringing out unrelated items." Manfred calmly stated with crossed arms, squeezing his bicep to help vent any excess rage.

"Alright, sir. I'll be back with what you need in just a minute." The busty cashier said as she once again sauntered away from the counter and into one of the store's many aisles.

 _Who knew that Nosferatu had such difficulties with shopping...?_ Kristoph pondered as he watched the scene before him with a look of bewilderment. _Hopefully Klavier will be faster, for both our sakes…_

* * *

"Alright, we got it done!" Ema proudly chirped as she finished filling out the last blank on the current page of her Mad Lib book. Wanna read it?" The young aspiring scientist asked as she extended the book to Franziska, whose response was to grip her head and turn her back towards the annoying girl with a groan. "Alright, I'll just lead it out loud… 'Jimmy was running down the street when he saw a… fool. The fool… Ema Skye… was... being foolish… which made Jimmy… furious. Jimmy responded by grabbing a… hammer… and… throwing it… hard… at Ema Skye, making her… cry. Ema Skye proceeded to… bleed until Jimmy gave her a… bomb… and she… died.' That was a bit dark, don't you think?" Ema said with a concerned look.

"I think you should go away." Franziska growled.

"I disagree. Nothing is dark when you brighten up the room with that lovely voice of yours…" A young male voice said in an annoyingly suave manner from a distance.

"You…!" Ema hissed, glaring daggers at Klavier as he approached her with a grin on his face and a Slurpee in his hand.

"I'm surprised that you remembered me. But then again, my mom's always telling me that I'm so handsome and talented that I hold a special place in everyone's heart." The young Casanova smirked as he took a sip from his Slurpee.

"Yeah, like a blood clot." Ema stated with crossed arms and a pouty face.

"Aw, if there's one thing I hate more than bath time it's seeing a beautiful lady upset. So how about you turn that frown upside-down with a sip of my Slurpee?" Klavier asked, extending the frosted beverage to the grumpy girl with a shake of his wrist.

"No!" Ema huffed, raising her nose in derision at the blond boy's gesture.

"Are you sure? It's cherry…" Klavier said with an enticing tone, a repeat of his juice box offer from earlier, but this time earning a much worse ending.

"I. Said. NO!" Ema screamed, punching the young boy as hard as she could in the gut, causing him to fall to his knees crying as he dropped his Slurpee which spilled out all over the floor in an icy red puddle.

"What did you do that for?!" Klavier sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gripped his wounded stomach.

"That's for knocking down my sandcastle earlier, you big meanie!" Ema angrily stated with her hands on her hips.

"Seriously?! That was like, a bajillion hours ago! Why are you getting so upset about something that happened so long ago?"

"The bubonic plague happened long ago, but that doesn't mean that I like it! The same can be said for you!"

As Ema lorded over the little Casanova, Kristoph, having grown tired of waiting, angrily stormed over to his younger brother.

"Klavier, I told you no… Why are you on the ground crying?" The periwinkle-cladded adolescent asked with a look of concern as he bent down to help his younger brother up.

"I… I was trying to be nice, and… and attract that girl who rejected me at the beach…!" Klavier sniffled as he pointed at Ema, who still looked embittered. "But… But she was mean to me and hit me really, really hard in the tummy and made me drop my Slurpee!" The young boy wheezed as he gestured to the mess on the ground before him that used to be his snack. "Beat her up, Khris! Beat her good!" Klavier yelled, pushing his older brother towards the girl who had wrong him so horribly.

"Klavier, as much as I'd love to fight for your honor, despite what happened at beach, we don't have time for such trivialities. We have to leave now." Kristoph coolly stated, trying his best to hide the slight apprehension forming in his voice as he grabbed his younger brother's arm and started walking towards the store's exit.

"What do you mean? We've only been here for, like, a minute!" Klavier pouted.

"Yes, but the checkout line is at a complete standstill because the strange old man at the front refuses to be direct with what he wants and the cashier has more air in her head than a hot air balloon. To stand in that line would essentially make us sitting ducks. That's why we need to cut our loses and get back to the condo before-"

"HELP! HELP! MY BABIES ARE MISSING! HAS ANYONE SEEN MY BABIES!? THEY DISAPEARED WHILE I WAS SLEEPING! THEY HAVE THE FACES OF ANGELS AND CUTE, LITTLE BUBBLE TUSHIES!" A crazed woman yelled from outside the store.

"No…" Kristoph muttered under his breath as he brushed a few stray hairs out of his face. "We're too late…"

Suddenly, a woman rushed into the store with saucer-sized eyes filled with worry as she squeezed the life out of the handle of her small auburn purse. In terms of appearance, she was a dead ringer to Kristoph, sharing the same height, eyes, and body type- though in regards to her frame, she was a little less bulky. But at the same time, her appearance was distinct enough from the elder Gavin brother to set them apart. For unlike Kristoph, whose face was more chiseled, hers was a bit more rounded. This, in conjunction with her circular pink-rimmed glasses, gave her a more feminine look. And while the two of them shared long, blond hair, they wore it completely different. For while Kristoph had his styled in a clear, crisp drill-shape, the woman let her silky blonde locks flow down her back and shoulders in smooth waves. As for her attire, this woman and Kristoph's were polar opposites- his periwinkle suit, an outfit that he liked to wear to display a form of class, greatly contrasted the casual look of her mint-green blouse and crisp blue jeans.

"Has anyone here seen my babies?!" The woman asked in a panicked tone, frantically scanning the area. "They're two boys named- KRISTOPH! KLAVIER!" She shrieked when she spotted the Gavin brothers before rushing them like a linebacker and squeezing them in the hug of a lifetime. "OH, MY BABIIIIES…!" The woman wailed as tears of joy and relief streamed down her cheeks.

"Mother, please don't... Not in public" Kristoph pleaded, trying to wriggle free from his mom, which only made her squeeze him and his brother even tighter.

"I can't help it, Khrissy! I was just so worried about you and Klavier! I went to give you both your midnight forehead kisses, only to find that both of your beds were empty! Don't you EVER scare your poor mama like that ever again!" The distraught woman sternly hissed to her older son before releasing her grip on the two boys.

"Trust me, Mother, you don't have to worry about that. I didn't even want to come here."

"Yet here you are, standing in the middle of a Buyer's Discount Select Medicines!" The irate mother objected gesturing to the store as a whole. "Why did you come here? Are you selling drugs? Are you trying to start a gang? Did that hooligan Phoenix Wright put you up to it?!" Mama Gavin snarled as her left eye started twitching.

"Mother, I-" Kristoph tried to talk, only to be interrupted by his mom.

"From the moment that Phoenix boy took your pudding cup, I knew he was trouble! I _knew_ it! I marched straight to that school and demanded that little brat be put in his place, but would Principle Leegents listen to me? _Nooo_! He said I was overreacting! Was I overreacting, Principle Ned Leegents? Was I?! Because now Phoenix Wright is forcing my angel of a son to perform drug runs! And if that wasn't bad enough, that spiky-haired hell spawn felt it was necessary to put _both_ my babies in harm's way!"

"Mother…" Kristoph angrily sighed as his irate mom, who was now visibly red in the face, continued her tirade.

"But how do you expect a boy to turn out when his mother is a trashy, lowbrow, slack jawed, miserable excuse for a woman like Gerana Wright!? She thinks that she's so high and mighty just because she keeps getting elected as PTA president every year! But does she stop to thank _me_ , the vice president, for all that I do? For all the times that I've had to step up and clean up her messes because she procrastinates until the last second?! No! No, she doesn't! She acts like she's the greatest thing since sliced bread, giggling and sipping coffee with Anita Butz while bragging about how her braindead child got a C in Algebra! It makes me sick!"

"Mother, can I please talk now?" Kristoph growled, finally reaching the end of his rope.

"What is it, my little petunia?" The woman sweetly asked, her attitude taking a 180-degree turn, prompting the periwinkle-cladded adolescent to slightly shudder at his mother's public use of her pet name for him in public… as if his dignity could take any more of a beating.

"We only walked here from the hotel because Klavier wouldn't stop poking me and blowing in my ear until I agreed to buy him a snack. If you're to be angry at anyone, it should be him." Kristoph stated as he glared at his younger brother.

"Is this true, Klavier?" Mama Gavin sternly asked with her hands on her hips.

"No, Mommy. I'm a good boy." The little boy innocently replied, flashing his mom his most convincing puppy dog eyes.

"Klavier…" The woman said as she narrowed her stare at her younger son.

"Yes, Mommy…" Klavier groaned, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I can't believe this! Your father and I tell you both over and over again about the dangers of going out at night, and yet you refused to heed our warnings! You boys should be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Yes, Mom." The Gavin brothers said in unison.

"Do you think your father and I tell you these things because we like it? No! We do it because this world is filled with all kinds of sickos who come out at night and would love nothing more than to hurt two beautiful angels like you! Look at that creepy vampire man at the front of the line! He could have tried to molest you!" The distraught mother yelled, gesturing to Manfred, prompting the veteran prosecutor to very briefly cast the Gavin family a scowl before returning his attention to the counter.

"Yes, Mom." The Gavin brothers said once more.

"Good. Now I hope that you enjoyed your snack, Klavier, because neither of you boys are getting desserts for a month."

"But, Mommy! I didn't get to eat my snack!" Klavier whined.

"What do you mean, Klavier?" Mama Gavin asked with a confused look on her face, knowing how quick an eater her younger son was when it came to sweets.

"My Slurpee spilled all over the floor." The young boy whimpered, pointing to the sloshy red mess behind him.

"Well, you should have been more careful, sweetie." The woman softly told her younger son as she stroked his hair.

"But I _was_ careful!" Klavier pouted with a stomp of his foot. "But I dropped it when I was punched really hard in the tummy by a mean girl!"

"What?" The mother gasped. "When did this happen?"

"Just now by HER!" Klavier yelled, pointing his finger back at Ema, who was too busy trying to do more Mad Libs with Franziska to take notice of the Gavin family's discussion.

"Well, don't you worry, coochie bear. She's going to wish she hadn't laid a finger on you after I pootie tang her!" Mama Gavin huffed before storming over to Ema with a crazed look in her eyes.

After being tapped on the shoulder, Ema stood up and faced the blonde lady who was glaring daggers at her.

"Is something wrong, ma'am?" The young aspiring scientist asked with a mixed look of worry and confusion.

"Don't play dumb with me, young lady. I wasn't born yesterday!"

"What… What are you talking about? I didn't do anything" Ema whimpered, obviously startled by this weird lady coming out of nowhere and yelling at her.

"Oh, so you didn't punch my darling Klavier in his little stomach?" Mama Gavin sternly asked, gesturing to her younger son, who responded with a wave and a grin.

"I only punched him because he knocked down my sandcastle earlier today at the beach!" Ema objected with a pouty face and her hands on her hips.

"I'll talk to Klavier about this later, but that does not warrant you beating up my baby boy! He is delicate like a flower and should be treated as such! Now apologize to him!" Mama Gavin yelled, sternly pointing at her younger son.

"No!" Ema objected with crossed arms and a stubborn look in her eye.

"No?!" The older woman repeated with a mixed tone of anger and disbelief. "NO?! Don't be flippant with _me_ , young lady!"

"I'm not being flippant!" Ema retorted. "I had every right to punch that big jerk! Not only did he knock down my sandcastle, but he wouldn't stop trying to flirt with me no matter how many times I told him to stop!"

"Klavier can't help it if he is sensitive and charismatic! It's one of the many traits that he gets from me that make him a sweet, darling boy! And frankly, you should feel blessed that he's like that and not like his father! If I were you, I would rather have a guy complementing me and making me feel special rather than a man whose main pickup line was 'Hey, I'm going out to dinner. Want to come?' Sure, my husband is a decent man and a good provider, but would it kill him to be a bit more sensitive? I mean, I work so hard to keep a clean house, cook him good meals, and exercise to maintain a good figure, but does he notice? No! He goes straight to his chair and watches the news! I'm lucky if I get to hear him complain that he had to spend a few dollars on parking because he couldn't find a free spot three blocks away from his law firm! I would _kill_ for just three seconds of my husband acting like half the gentleman that Klavier is, yet here you are complaining as if my sweet, little coochie bear is some kind of monster!"

"Alright, Alright! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Just stop yelling at me!" Ema screeched, taking a step back to distance herself from the deranged woman. "I only did it because my sister Lana told me that's what you do to creepy guys!"

"Oh, really? Where is your sister? Because I am not going to stand by and let some impudent girl cause grief among mothers nationwide by hurting their sons for her own sick kicks!"

"Over… Over there." Ema whimpered, trying her best to hold back the tears forming in her eyes as she pointed a shaky finger at her sister.

"Well, it's pootie tanging time!" Mama Gavin bellowed as she marched towards Lana.

"Yeah, alright Mom!" Klavier cheered, pumping his fist in pride at the sight of his mother making a scene.

"No, Klavier, not 'alright mom'." Kristoph groaned, pushing his glasses up to hide his cheeks which were red from embarrassment as his mother tapped Lana on the shoulder.

However, unlike her sister, the college student acted completely indifferent and didn't bother to turn around or even so much as give a single word of acknowledgement.

"Excuse me, young lady." The disgruntled mother irritably stated with a dirty scowl on her face.

No response.

"Young lady…" The agitated mother growled, clearly losing her last bit of patience.

Still no response.

"Can't you see that I am trying to talk to you?!" Mama Gavin roared as she grabbed Lana by the arm and forcefully turned the college student to face her.

"Who… Who are you?" Lana asked with a tone of shock and unease, obviously perturbed at the fact the she was being accosted by some loony woman in a pharmacy at midnight.

"I'm Kharmen Gavin- PTA vice president, homemaker, and mother. And because of you, my baby was hurt!" The enraged mother snapped as she gestured over to her sons.

"Oh my god…" Lana said with saucer-sized eyes and her mouth hanging open as she looked at the Gavin boys before looking back at their mother and again at the boys. "You actually told on me to your mom because I wouldn't date you?" The brunette girl asked in utter disbelief.

"Yes, because this is the face of a man who wants his mother intimately involved with his love life." Kristoph wryly retorted, still hiding his face out of shame. _Dear God, it's homecoming all over again…_

"Right…" Lana sneered with a roll of her eyes. "It's people like you that show just why participation awards are a bad idea and why you shouldn't hug your child too much."

"I'll have you know that all the awards that I have won from various competitions- debates, spelling bees, and Scrabble tournaments- were won by skill. The periwinkle-cladded adolescent growled.

"That's right! And for those few that weren't received because of my baby's big, brilliant brain were won after I gave those judges what for! And what do you mean you won't date Kristoph?! He's smart, he's polite, he has a good sense of humor, and he is so in touch with his feelings that he is not afraid to admit his love of Shirley Temple movies! Those are just four reasons why any girl would be lucky to date my son! FOUR!" Kharmen angrily proclaimed, holding up four fingers to emphasize her point. "And don't even get me started on his cute, little tushie! It's like two perfect little gumballs! What girl in her right mind wouldn't want to take a bite outta that tushie? Hubba bubba!"

 _Ok,_ _ **NOW**_ _it's homecoming all over again!_ Kristoph internally yelled, pressing his hands against his eyes and mouth as he let out a muffled scream of embarrassment. Sure, his glasses were digging into his face, but that was the least of the periwinkle-cladded adolescent's issues.

"One that had the misfortune to be hit on earlier today at the boardwalk when he played _It's Raining Men_ on a boombox and started doing squats despite my friend and my protests." Lana objected.

"So you're the one who beat my Khrissy-wissy with his new boombox?" Kharmen growled, glowering at the college student with crossed arms. "I had to hear his father complaining about the $20 wasted on it all night because of you?!"

"No, that was some weird purple-haired girl named Ariane or Flora or something like that- I wasn't really paying attention to that. But thank God she stepped in when she did and gave us a chance to get out of there, because I don't know how much more squatting I could take. I mean, the kid was really getting into it- like he was trying to drill for oil or churning butter! And don't even get me started on the creepy grin he had on his face while doing it…" Lana said with a shudder.

"Kristoph can't help it if he's a passionate man! That's one of the many wonderful things he got from me- along with good hair, beautiful blue eyes, and a lovable, easygoing disposition. In fact, my baby is so thoughtful that he wasn't squatting, but rather practicing his lovemaking so he can make me beautiful grandbabies! Plus, he's a smart boy, a genius even! He skipped the third grade, you know?" Kharmen boasted with a smug grin. "You told her about you skipping the third grade, right honey?" The proud mother sweetly asked as she turned to face her eldest son, who was still hiding his face.

"Yes, mother! I did!" Kristoph huffed in exasperation, embarrassed to the brink of tears after his mom's lovemaking comment.

"Don't get snippy, Khristoph. I'm only trying to help." Kharmen innocently responded before turning back around to face Lana, who looked utterly beside herself.

 _If by 'help' you mean helping to make today even worse for me, then good job, Mother. Mission accomplished_! The periwinkle adolescent internally fumed as he could only stand by and watch his mom embarrass him even more with each passing second. And to make matters worse, Klavier was pumping his fists with a big, goofy grin on his face as if he was watching a sports game!

"So, what time can Khristoph and I pick you up for the date?" Kharmen sweetly asked with a warm grin.

"For the last time, I don't want to date your son!" Lana angrily protested.

"Oh, so you think you're better than my son? _MY_ Kristoph!?" Kharmen snarled.

"YES!" Lana screeched at the top of her lungs, her face becoming noticeably red. "Yes, I do!"

"Nonsense, no girl is too good for my Khristoph." The disgruntled mother responded in a cold, certain tone.

"Have you ever looked at your son? He wears a purple suit-

"Periwinkle!" Kristoph angrily chimed in. "My suit is periwinkle!"

"As I was saying…" Lana growled, quickly flashing Kristoph a death glare. "Your son wears a purple suit, has an irritating, grating personality and doesn't know the meaning of the word 'no', has hands that are more feminine than _mine_ , and don't even get me started on his hair…" The college student stated with disdain, gesturing to the Kristoph. "What is that style supposed to be? Some sort of drill head, or pick? Because if it's the latter, I hope he trips and gives himself a lobotomy with it!"

"Oh, you did not just insult my baby's hair! Because my baby has beautiful hair- the most gorgeous hair you could ever hope to set your eyes upon! And why wouldn't he? After all, I personally style it every morning." Kharmen boasted with a smug grin.

"Oh my god!" Lana burst into laughter. "And here I thought that your pisshead son couldn't get any more pathetic! Hahaha!"

"Well…!" Kharmen huffed in derision with her hands on her hips. "If it's 'pathetic'- and I use the term so very, _very_ loosely- for a mother to make sure that her son looks spiffy, then I don't want to wonderful! If you can't appreciate the wholesome, heartwarming bond between a mother and her son, then you really _aren'_ t good enough for my baby…!"

"Glad to hear!" Lana jovially said with a warm smile.

"Which is why you will be going on a date with my Khrissy-wissy, even if it's the last thing I do."

"What!?" The college student shrieked, reeling back in shock.

"You heard me."

"That makes absolutely no sense! If you don't think I'm good enough for your son, why would you continue to insist that I date him?"

"You poor girl…" Kharmen smirked with a shake of her head. "I'm not having you date my baby because I like you, but to show you what you will never get to have. Because once you have dinner with Kristoph, you will never find happiness with another man. You'll try, going on date after date with man after man, but no matter how handsome they are, or how much money they have, they will all look like sniveling little boys when compared to _my_ son. And as the years go on, your looks shall fade and your body will wither and become barren, sealing your fate to a life of loneliness, with your only company being the sweet memories of the low-sodium, high-fiber dinner you had with my son and your bitter tears."

"You're insane!" Lana yelled with saucer-sized eyes.

"Am I? Am I!?" The deranged mother growled, leaning forward as her left eye started to twitch.

"Yes, considering that I'm 21 and your son is barely old enough to see PG-13 films! Seriously, this is the kind of stuff that episodes of _To Catch a Predator_ is made of!"

"Kristoph's father is 44 and I'm 32. Age is only a number. See you next Tuesday, _Lana_." Kharmen venomously stated as she made her way out of the line.

"That is if you can find where I live." Lana replied with a smug grin and crossed arms, prompting the irate mother to turn around and flash her an eerily calm, yet cold, look.

"I know what you look like, I know your name, and I have a surprising amount of free time. It's not a matter of if I'll find you, but rather a matter of _when_. Come boys, we're going back to the condo." Kharmen said with a wave of her hand as she walked towards the store's exit with her two sons following closely behind her.

"Well Klavier, looks like I won our little bet." Kristoph smirked.

"Nu-uh!" The young boy pouted. "You didn't ask her out, mom did! Plus, it's like a bazillion minutes after midnight!"

"Klavier, Klavier, Klavier…" Kristoph chuckled as he pat his younger brother's shoulder. "This is our mother we're talking about. We only date if she says we're allowed to date."

"I guess you're right…" Klavier groaned.

However, the young blond boy's moment of self-pity was cut short when he heard a familiar masculine scream filled with anger, prompting him to stop in his tracks and turn to face the counter, where Manfred was glaring daggers at Cammy while squeezing the life out of a roll of toilet paper.

"I swear, you are the second most idiotic person I have ever met! Are those large breasts that you're so shamelessly flaunting cutting off circulation to your brain?!" The veteran prosecutor roared as he pounded his fist on the counter.

"S-Sir, please calm down." Cammy nervously stuttered with a terrified look in her eyes as she held up a little teddy bear that she kept behind the counter like a makeshift shield after quickly buttoning up her top, realizing that her plan to have a little malicious fun was backfiring big time.

"Calm down!? How am I supposed to be calm when my daughter is having her first period and I have no idea what to do!? That's right! My daughter is menstruating! I didn't wish to be so blunt, but you have left me no choice! So either get me some menstrual pads, or so help me Santa, I will sue this store for everything it's worth 12 times over!" Manfred bellowed at the top of his lungs before snapping his fingers, creating a burst of air that knocked the teddy bear out of the busty cashier's hands and pushed her back a bit.

"Y-Yes, sir!" Cammy timidly replied before rushing out of the counter once again and into the aisles.

"Well, it looks like I'm finally getting somewhere." Manfred smirked. "Maybe I can get through the rest of the night without-"

"There he is, Mommy!" Klavier yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the veteran prosecutor. "There's the mean man I was telling you about that tried to beat me up at the beach!"

"Oh, it's pootie tanging time!" Kharmen bellowed, storming over to Manfred with clenched fists and a death glare before forcefully jabbing his arm with stiff fingers. "Excuse me, sir."

"What do you want? Can't you see that I'm busy?" The veteran prosecutor curtly asked.

"Yes, and this will only take a minute. You see, earlier today, my son, Klavier," The protective mother gestured to her younger son, "was playing on the beach when he was attacked by an elderly man with a cane that he insists is you. Is this true?"

"What evidence do you have to support this accusation?"

"The word of my son is all the evidence I need." Kharmen proudly retorted.

"Well in that case, you're building your case on lies." Manfred sneered.

"What?" Kharmen hissed in outrage.

"You stated that your son's attacker was 'an elderly man with a cane'. If that statement is true, then wouldn't I be walking with a cane? So, care to explain this little inconsistency?"

"You could have just left it at home."

Manfred shook his head with a smirk on his face and a finger waggle. "If only life was so convenient… If I needed a cane- which I don't because I am the panicle of perfection- how would I have the luxury to just 'leave it at home'?"

"Well, umm… Ehh… I-I-I, uh, think…" Kharmen stuttered, completely caught off-guard by the situation. Sure, she was used to getting into very heated discussions with others, but the passionate mother wasn't used to them actually stopping the momentum of her argument with cold, hard logic.

"Objection! I think the more obvious and likely answer is that your son is attempting to deceive you. Go on boy, confess to your crimes!" Manfred roared with a snap of his fingers, prompting Klavier to hide behind his mother's leg.

"But Mommy, I'm telling the truth! That man threw his cane at me and tried to beat me up! Honest!"

"Even now, the boy continues sowing the seed of deceit! Are you going to leave this misdeed unpunished?"

"No, I won't…" Kharmen coldly growled, pushing up her glasses.

"Good." Manfred smirked. "Now, show- Uuaaaaaaaargh! Not again!" The 'perfect' prosecutor screamed in pain as the enraged mother took out a bottle of mace from her purse and sprayed him right in the face, rubbing his eyes before she literally pushed him out of the line and onto his back.

"Thanks, Mommy!" Klavier chirped, hugging his mom's leg as she pat him on the head.

"Don't mention it, coochie bear. It's what good mothers do." Kharmen sweetly replied before blowing on her bottle of mace, like a victorious cowboy in western film would do with his gun, before returning it to her purse. "Now let's actually get back to the condo and get some shuteye."

As the Gavin family left the store, Cammy rushed back to the counter with a box of menstrual pads.

"I got them! I got the pads for you, sir!" The young cashier huffed, struggling to catch her breath. "Sir? Sir…?" Cammy asked as she scanned the area, confused as to where her aggravated customer had run off to.

"Down here." Manfred groaned, rubbing his eyes as he slowly picked himself up off of the ground.

"Well, I got you the pads that you wanted, so… Here you go." Cammy said as she handed the veteran prosecutor the accursed product that had probably taken an additional ten years off his life.

"Thank you!" Manfred proclaimed in exasperation. "Now, how much will this be costing me?"

"Hold it, von Karma!" Byrne objected as he stepped up to the counter with Kay. "You've got to go to the back of the line."

"What are you talking about, Faraday? I was at the front of the line until that deranged woman assaulted me."

"Well, if you valued your spot so dearly, you shouldn't have been so quick to leave it." Byrne snidely retorted.

"Yeah!" Kay angrily chimed in.

"Don't you use my own words against me, Faraday, and give me back my spot!" Manfred snarled with a snap of his fingers.

"Tell you what, von Karma: since I'm a nice guy, I'll give you your spot back…"

"As you should."

"After I'm done paying for my purchases, that is." The scarf-wearing prosecutor said as he put the bottle of amoxicillin on the counter. "Yes, I would like to pay for my daughter's medicine and..." Byrne grabbed the Dracula costume out of his daughter's hands and placed it next to the amoxicillin. "a Dracula costume."

"Yay! Thank you, Daddy!" Kay squealed with a toothy grin.

"Yes, but the cost is coming out of your allowance." Byrne stated, instantly extinguishing all joy in his daughter's face.

"Alright. That'll be… $28.52. Will you be using cash or credit?" Cammy asked with a hint of nervousness in her voice due to the fact that the creepy Dracula man was glaring daggers at her and looked like he could attack at any moment.

"Credit." Byrne stated as he took his credit card out of his pocket and handed it to the young cashier.

"Okeydokey." Cammy stated as she swiped the prosecutor's credit card in the machine before putting his receipt and purchases in a plastic bag. "Have a good night." The adolescent girl stated as she handed the scarf-wearing prosecutor his bag.

"Oh, trust me, I will… See you tomorrow, von Karma." Byrne sneered at Manfred, waving to the veteran prosecutor as he and Kay left the store.

"Same… only I wish to see you wedged in the grill of a car." Manfred venomously stated as he tried to step up to the counter, only to be pushed aside by Lana. "What are you doing, girl? I'm next."

"Not if you aren't in line." Lana irritably stated as she put her energy drinks on the counter.

"Do you know who I am, girl?" Manfred growled.

"Sir, I am a junior in college during finals. You could be Death for all I care, but that or anything won't make me move from this spot."

Manfred tried to disprove that statement by pushing Lana back with a mighty snap of his fingers, as he had done to Byrne and Cammy, but sure enough, no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't push her back as she paid for her items.

Thankfully, given her current state and what she went through that night, Lana was in no mood to stick around, so as soon as she paid for her energy drinks, she grabbed them and immediately walked towards the exit.

"Come on, Ema. We're leaving." Lana called out to her sister, who was busy trying to get Franziska to do more Mad Libs with her.

"Aw! But we were having so much fun!" Ema pouted.

"Foolishly speak for yourself!" Franziska snarled.

"Don't fight with me, Ema." Lana sighed in exasperation, rubbing her eyes with her left thumb and index finger in an attempt to calm herself. "I may be dead on the inside from all the studying I had to do today, but I've got enough energy to take away your chemistry set if you keep us here any longer.

"Fine…" Ema groaned as she walked over to her sister before the two girls proceeded to leave the store.

Back at the checkout counter, Manfred slammed the box of menstrual pads on the counter. "Ring it up. Here is my money." The veteran prosecutor curtly stated as he took a $20 bill out of his pocket and placed it on the counter, which Cammy quickly picked up and placed in the register.

"Alright, is there anything else you need, sir?" Cammy timidly asked as she handed the 'perfect' prosecutor his change, trying her best to stay awake until the disgruntled vampire man left the store.

Looking over at Franziska, Manfred was greeted to the sight of her glowering at him with a ferocity that he had never seen before… a ferocity that basically meant that if he didn't get his youngest daughter a snack, despite Gilberta's warnings, he would be subjected to pain and misery that was not worth it after all he had to deal with in this Santaforsaken pharmacy alone.

"Give me a few bags of chips." Manfred sighed as he slid $5 worth of change towards Cammy, who put it in the register before going into one of the aisles and returning with a several bags of chips.

After putting the chips in a plastic bag with the box of menstrual pads, Cammy handed it over to Manfred who wasted no time in leaving the line, pulling Franziska up off of her bench by her arm, and leaving the store.

* * *

Fortunately for Manfred, things were starting to get better: the cab ride back to the beach house was perfectly quiet thanks to him threatening to throw Palaeno out of the vehicle; Franziska's disposition drastically improved after devouring her chips- bringing Gilberta's reliability into suspicion- and she went to sleep with no issue; and to make things better, Ty Stirr, the shady carney who caused so much trouble, came by early the next morning to move into his new beach house. This last part was especially good due to the fact that blood stain from the previous night could be pinned on Stirr, making it where at least some of Blaise's anger could be transferred away from the veteran prosecutor and onto the carney.

So even though Stirr was wearing his suit coat and walking with his cane, Manfred shook the man's hand with a grin as he, Edgeworth, and Franziska left the beach house with their suitcases, much to the maroon-cladded adolescent's confusion.

"Uh, Mr. von Karma, why… why is that carny wearing your suit and walking with your cane?" Edgeworth asked, pointing back at Stirr who was walking into the beach house.

"He saw me last night and was so moved by my perfection that he desired to emulate it. Is that so wrong?"

"No, but why did he think that Chief Prosecutor Debeste's beach house was his? And why did you let him go inside? And why-" Edgeworth was cut off by his adoptive sister lashing his arm with her riding crop.

"Miles Edgeworth, stop wasting our time with such foolishly foolish questions! If Papa does something, then there is a perfect reason behind it. Right, Papa?" Franziska smirked, looking up at her father for a sign of approval, which he gave in the form of a nod.

"Correct, Franziska. Now, because we have no car, I 've had to call a cab."

"A cab?" Edgeworth asked, cocking his head in confusion. "Why couldn't you just call our limo driver to pick us up?

"Yeah, Papa! I don't want to deal with the foolish Cohdopian man who kept foolishly singing _America, Fudge Yeah_!" Franziska pouted, earning her a strange look from her 'little' brother.

"Trust me, I don't want to do this as much as you both, but I told the staff that I was prosecuting a trial in Albuquerque and I intend to keep it that way." Manfred sternly stated with crossed arms. "If any of them find out that we spent the day at a beach house, it'll open the floodgates for them to start asking for vacations and sick days. But as for our driver, the chances of us getting the same person twice in a row is a million-to-one. We'd be more likely to be struck by lightning."

But unfortunately for the veteran prosecutor, his short burst of good luck had finally run out, because standing right next to the cab parked at the end of the beach house's driveway, smiling and with clasped hands, was Palaeno.

"Oh my gosh, it you again! Hi, Mr. Mozart-man!" The blond cabby excited stated, vigorously waving his hand like someone trapped on a deserted island trying to flag down a ship.

"Mr. von Karma, do you know this man?" Edgeworth asked.

"Unfortunately…" Manfred groaned. _Now where's that lightning?_

"And it looks like you brought one of the Village People with you!" Palaeno squealed. "Hey, can you sing _YMCA_ for me?"

"Um, sir. I don't know what would give you that idea, but I am not a part of any band." Edgeworth responded with a confused look.

"Oh, you're not? Because I could have sworn you were, since you're wearing such a strange looking outfit and you give off that vibe of being…" Palaeno awkwardly said, looking down at the ground while rubbing his hands together like a praying mantis. "how Americans put it, 'out of the closet'."

"You think I'm _GAY_!?" Edgeworth shrieked, reeling back in horror as Franziska burst out into a fit of laughter.

"Hahaha! Twice in 24 hours! Is… Is there something you're not telling us, Miles Edgeworth?" Franziska sneered, pointing her riding crop at her 'little' brother as she continued laughing, much to his chagrin.

"I will have you know, sir, that I have never once fancied men in my life, and I have no idea what would make you think otherwise." Edgeworth scolded, shooting the cabby a cold glare.

"I didn't mean to offend you, sir!" Palaeno jovially expressed with a grin and his hands held up. "I just figured that since you're wearing pink-"

"AAAAAAAARGH!" Edgeworth screamed at the top of his lungs with his clenched fists held high in the air. "MY! SUIT! IS! MAROOOOOOOOON! MAROOOOOOOOON! MARO-" The maroon-cladded adolescent was cut off by his adoptive sister lashing him with her riding crop.

"Miles Edgeworth, stop screaming like a fool! You're going to give me a headache!"

"You'd don't understand, Franziska. Why is it so hard for people to see the difference between maroon and pink?! Do people do this because they're too moronic to grasp basic color comparison, or does the universe feel the need to torture me every chance it gets?"

"Trust me, Miles, it's the latter. Now get in the car. We don't have time to waste standing around talking about such pointless trivialities." Manfred sternly stated.

"Yes, Mr. von Karma…" Edgeworth sighed as he and Franziska put their suitcases in the trunk before getting into the back of the cab, followed by Manfred doing the same with his suitcase before sitting in the front passenger's seat.

"Ok, so where to?" Palaeno jovially asked as he sat down behind the wheel.

"Hope Springs Airport." Manfred curtly stated with crossed arms. "And be quick- my children have flights in about an hour."

"In that case, away we goooooooo!" Palaeno excitedly bellowed as he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and sped away from the beach house.

* * *

For the first few minutes, this trip appeared to be identical to the one back from the pharmacy with Palaeno not saying a word. But right when Manfred was just starting to think that this 'vacation' of anguish and misery was finally over, that he had suffered all the pain he could possibly suffer, the blond cabby decided to open his mouth.

"During our last trip, I couldn't help but feel that you were angry about something." Palaeno morosely stated.

"Really?" Manfred wryly asked with crossed arms as he squeezed his right bicep.

"Yes, and I think I know why, and I am so sorry."

"Forget about it."

"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Mozart-man, but it was inexcusable what I did."

"No, really, forget about it. I just want to move past the awful day that was yesterday."

"I will not 'forget about it', sir! When Colias Palaeno does something wrong, he makes things right!" The blond cabby proclaimed as he slammed his hand on the dashboard.

"What are you talking about?" Manfred responded with a confused look. "You may have been annoying, but you didn't wrong me."

"Don't try to make me feel better, Mr. Mozart-man. When we first met, I was so excited to show my love for this country, that I had completely neglected to talk about my home nation of Cohdopia, making you feel hurt that I couldn't express my pride in my country around you."

"Trust me, that couldn't be farther from the truth. If you want to see me happy, then just focus more on driving and less on talking."

"You don't have to hide the hurt any longer, sir, because I am going to compensate you tenfold!" Palaeno proudly stated before turning on the car's CD player, prompting a proud orchestral song to start playing through the speakers, and singing the proud anthem of the Cohdopian people in time to the instruments.

 _Cohdopia is the greatest nation._

 _All other nations are run by cowardly men._

 _Cohdopia's number one exporter of whitcrystal oil._

 _No other country exports whitcrystal oil._

 _Cohdopia's home of the Primidux Statue,_

 _It's gold and has a look of regality._

 _Many say that it's a rip-off of_ _ **The Thinker**_ _,_

 _But that jerk Rodin stole it from us._

 _Cohdopia, Cohdopia, you're a wonderful place,_

 _From the Oreamnos Mountains to the forests of Cervidae._

 _Cohdopia likes all countries, but not Borginia,_

 _They're mean, smelly, people that want to steal your money._

 _Cohdopia has the best industry of all,_

 _We make things really fast and cheap._

 _We do this by banning all the filthy, scheming Borginian unions,_

 _Employees work all night for 3 euros an hour._

 _Cohdopia, Cohdopia, you're a wonderful place,_

 _From the Oreamnos Mountains to the forests of Cervidae._

 _Come and kiss the mighty pinky of King Danaus,_

 _Or he will hit you many times with his big scepter!_

"So, what do you think? Pretty awe-inspiring, isn't it?" Palaeno proudly asked.

"It's… something." Edgeworth said, not exactly sure what to think.

"I thought you said that you felt that every country was so fascinating and pleasant. What makes Borginia different?" Manfred smirked, savoring the irony of the situation.

"I said that about every country I _stayed_ in." Palaeno jovially corrected the veteran. "And no Cohdopian would ever even so much as step foot in the cesspool known as Borginia. Want to know why?"

"No. Forget I even said anything." Manfred hurriedly stated, regretting even opening his mouth in the first place and cursing his constant need for superiority.

"Speak for yourself, Mr. von Karma. For I, on the other hand, am quite curious." Edgeworth stated, earning a glare from his mentor.

"Well, if you insist, young man… It all began in the year 1770 when King Battus Polydamas Antiquus, a king whose might and wit was matched only by his devotion to his people, took a stand against the Borginian merchants who were slowly destroying our fine nation away from the inside with relentless price gouging. Thus, under his guidance, the Knights of Cohdopia were formed and were sent out to…"

* * *

For the next 30 minutes, Palaeno went on to speak of the exploits of the Knights of Cohdopia, which included, but not limited to, expelling all Borginian merchants from the capital city, burning down all Borginian shops, and stealing candy from each and every Borginian baby- and if a Borginian baby didn't have any candy, they would be given a piece just so it could be immediately stolen back. Though Manfred couldn't care less about these details as the upbeat cabby went on and on about his country's history. Sure, the veteran prosecutor tried to stop the story by changing the topic of discussion on several occasion, but each and every time he was foiled by Edgeworth, who oddly enough seemed interested in such pointless drivel. Though knowing the boy's family history, this 'interest' was probably a product of the same gene that compelled his father to make life harder for perfect prosecutors.

But at least Manfred wasn't alone in his feelings of disdain, for Franziska made her contempt for this foolish history lesson obvious, glaring daggers at her 'little' brother and lashing his leg with her riding crop whenever he appeared to be intrigued by the story.

"…The Borginians thought they had won when they assassinated King Battus with the atroquinine made from their evil cocoons, but little did they realize that this act of treachery only fueled our hatred against them. And so, by 1771, we had succeeded in driving each and every Borginian back into the dark, soulless swamp that is their motherland. And would you look at that, we're already here." Palaeno noted as he pulled into the airport, stopping right at the front entrance. "Good thing I decided to tell you the short version!"

 _Since when is a half-hour of anything the 'short' version?_ Manfred thought to himself with saucer-sized eyes.

"Thank you for the story, sir. It was quite…different." Edgeworth said, struggling to find a nice way to express his doubts regarding the validity of the tale, with a half-bow.

"Don't mention it, young man! I wish both of you a happy flight!" Palaeno chirped with a wave as the maroon-cladded adolescent and his adoptive sister exited the vehicle, claimed their respective suitcases from the trunk, and walked into the airport… but not before Franziska lashed Edgeworth's back with her riding crop, causing him to yelp in pain. "They're such wonderful kids! You must be so proud of them!"

"Yes, they're the light of my life and make every day an adventure." Manfred wryly groaned as the blond cabby drove out of the airport and back onto the highway. "Now, can you please stop talking to me? I need to regain my composure before returning to the Prosecutor's Office."

"Are you sure?" Palaeno asked with a look of disappointment. "Because I'm willing to help us pass the time by telling some cherished Cohdopian children's stories- _The Butterfly and the Venus Flytrap_ , _The Goat and the Lion_ , _The Gardener and the Prickly Rose_ …"

"Trust me, I am perfectly content with silence."

"Ok, it's cool. But can I ask you a favor?"

Manfred briefly pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "What?"

"If we run into traffic, is it alright if I play some music? Traffic jams make me antsy."

"Fine. But I highly doubt there will be any traffic. I should know- I travel down this highway if I need to prosecute in an adjacent state, and never once in my long career have I encountered anything worse than some slight slowdown at this time of day. Wait, why are those cars up ahead not moving…?"

* * *

"Why am I not surprised?" Manfred snarled with crossed arms. "Everything else related to this accursed trip has gone wrong, so why should the drive back be any different?"

"It's not _that_ bad…" Palaeno warmly said.

"'Not that bad'? Are you blind?! We've been sitting in this traffic jam for the past 5 minutes and have barely moved a single millimeter! In what world is that 'not that bad'?" Manfred retorted, gesturing to the wall of cars surrounding their vehicle.

"A world where we get to listen to the Cohdopian national anthem!" Palaeno squealed in excitement as he turned on the CD player, causing the sound of the proud orchestra to blare through the speakers once more."

"If you sing one word of that song, the next person you'll be performing it for will be King Battus." The veteran prosecutor loudly threatened, but unfortunately, the blond cabby was completely unfazed as he kept smiling his usual smile.

"Sorry, Mr. Mozart-man, no dice! You promised that I could play music, and this is the song that will be playing. So until we get out of this bit of traffic… Cohdopia is the greatest nation…!"

So for the next three hours, Manfred had to listen to Palaeno sing the Cohdopian national anthem over and over again without pause, with each successive round getting slightly more irritating than the last. Though after the first 30 or so rounds, the pain of having to listen to the song wasn't so bad… mostly because the 'perfect' prosecutor was diverting much of it into his head as he repeatedly bashed it against the dashboard.

But if Manfred knew what was in store for him when he returned to the Prosecutor's Office, he would have never wanted that traffic jam to end.


	10. Blazing Retribution

**A/N:** Here it is: the final chapter of _The von Karma Family Beach Trip_! This story has been one of my favorites to write and I'm sad to see it end. Though on the bright side, if you liked this story- particularly this last chapter- then I think you'll love the fanfic that will be following this one. Though with that said, here is the final character age.

 **Gumshoe:** **22**

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Blaise Debeste was never a morning person. He felt that it was a time for 'babies, old ladies, and people who had nothing better to do'. When he was a kid, he would watch television into the wee hours of the morning; when he was a teen, he spent his nights partying around town and performing acts of mischief and minor vandalism; and as an adult, he never got up before noon on a day off- even when Sebastian would knock at his door, crying about how he wanted to play or was feeling lightheaded from hunger. Though unfortunately for Blaise, while being chief prosecutor came with a good paycheck and lots of influence, it involved coming into the office early in the morning. But that problem was easily fixed with a nice, tall cup of coffee… or seven.

However, today was different. For unlike most days, in which Blaise would stomp into the Prosecutor's Office hunched over with a scowl and make anyone who had the gall to tell him 'good morning' disappear by the end of the day, the Chief Prosecutor was striding into the building with a skip in his step and a toothy grin on his face as he made his way to Manfred's office.

"Oh, von Karmaaa…" Blaise said in a singsong tone as he unlocked the perfectionist prosecutor's office door with a spare key and flung it open. "How was your day at the- What the hell..?!" The corrupt public official yelled, his eyes wide with awe as he looked into large room filled with many valuable antiques- a curio cabinet filled with Faberge eggs, a golden suit of knight armor with a red cape that was holding a spear, and a jewel-encrusted dog collar housed in a glass case to name a few- yet von Karma was nowhere to be found.

 _This isn't like von Karma… This isn't like von Karma at all. He's like clockwork, y'know? Always coming in early to read files or write up a report and always acting like some kind of teacher's pet. It'd be sickening if it wasn't predictable and/or didn't benefit me. Hell, the only time that persnickety vampire-wannabe didn't come into work on time was after Edgeworth disappeared back in '01. But y'see, this isn't like that. He didn't kill some goody-goody defense attorney who had to play hero; he went to the beach- most people would like that, y'know. Even with Gant being well… Gant, it's not like von Karma to go AWOL on me… Ha! Who am I kidding? When it comes to revenge schemes, Mr. 'Perfect' has all the creativity and intelligence of Sebastian that time he asked me 'How big is the Specific Ocean?" He probably just ran into some traffic. I'll just call him up on his cellphone._

Blaise took out his cellphone and, after dialing Manfred's number and waiting a few seconds, was greeted to the 'perfect' prosecutor's voicemail.

"I am currently busy with my duties as the perfect prosecutor and can't come to the phone. After the beep, please leave a message no more than 30 seconds in length or it will be disregarded."

Upon hearing this, Blaise growled under his breath as he returned his cellphone to his pocket.

 _Ok, von Karma may not be in the mood to talk. Understandable. He's coming back from his hell trip and is stuck in traffic. Y'see, I'd be too pissed for words as well if I was stuck in traffic after having to go on a vacation with Sebastian. No matter. Knowing von Karma, he'll be back at the office in an hour or two. But just to be safe…_

* * *

"Thank you, Manfred Tracker!" Blaise chuckled, leaning back in his office chair as he booted up his computer. "Y'know, not a single day passes by where I don't feel that installing that tracker in von Karma's cane while he was sleeping was the best idea I ever had. Well, except the time when I had the wherewithal to have Sebastian sterilized after his mom disappeared. Now, let's see where Mr. 'Perfect' is hiding…"

A map of the globe appeared on the monitor, which then zoomed in on a map of the U.S., then the state of California, then a little area right at the coast, and then finally on Blaise's beach house; at which point, a flashing dot appeared on the screen accompanied by a high-pitched beeping noise.

"THAT BASTARD!" The corrupt public official bellowed at the top of his lungs, pounding his fists on his keyboard. "He's taken over my beach house and is using it as some goddamn fort to spite me! Well, let's see how much damage he's done to the place…" Blaise growled as he minimized the screen and pulled up a menu showing him the status of his beach house- if anything's been moved, damaged, etc.

And sure enough, most of the furniture had been moved in some way, shape, or form, with some items actually being taken out of the house, much to the sadistic Chief Prosecutor's chagrin.

"Just as I thought…!" Blaise snarled, a huge pillar of flame erupting from his lighter. "von Karma's probably in there right now redecorating the place to make it feel like home- filling the place with gargoyle statues, putting a coffin in my bedroom, replacing all of my pictures with Cristopher Lee's Dracula! Well, if von Karma thinks he's gonna get away with this, he's gonna get burned!"

The corrupt official flung open his office door with tremendous force, causing it to hit the wall with a loud thud before storming out, much to the indifference of his secretary- a short, portly woman with a aged face and long, wiry hair- who was too busy reading her tabloid magazine to care.

"O'Crew, cancel all my appointments for today. And if anyone asks, tell them I'm kicking von Karma's ass!"

"Whatever you say, sir." The woman apathetically stated without even looking up from her reading material.

* * *

Many people are quick to condemn motorcycles for being dangerous, loud, and an overall menace to the road. But those prudes don't realize the numerous advantages of owning a hog. For not only do you look cool and have an excuse to wear an absurd amount of leather, but you get the thrill of the wind on your face as you speed down the road. But then again, those negative opinions regarding motorcycles would be perfectly valid if one saw Blaise Debeste wearing a WWI German helmet with a spike on top and a glare on his face weaving in and out of traffic as he sped down the highway like a bat out of Hell.

"Y'know Gant, I would have thought that after our long history as friends I could trust you with the simple task of keeping an eye on von Karma and irritating the crap out of him." Blaise growled into the Bluetooth he was wearing beneath his helmet. "Y'see, not only are you one of the best damn detectives I know, but this is von Karma we're talking about. The guy has all the spontaneity of a pet rock, y'know."

"Believe me, Blaisie. I did everything you said and more." Gant calmly stated. "When you told me Manny was at the beach, I was in the water in a matter of minutes. When you called and said that Manny was driving around looking for a place to eat, I anticipated what restaurant he'd settle for and made sure I was sitting right at his table the second I was right. And when you tracked Manny to the Boardwalk? I took him to an arcade. Heck, I even went above and beyond and took him and the kids out put-putting…! Even if it did result in Manny ripping off my car door. But Manny will be Manny, am I right?"

"Yeah, but like I said before, this is completely out of character for von Karma, y'know? Y'see, I knew he'd be pissed off at me for doing this to him- giving me the silent treatment or threatening to taze me at worst- but being so brash as to hold himself up in my beach house and redecorate the place?"

"Well, you know how Manny can be. He's like a sleeping bull- quiet and imposing; but do one little thing to get him angry and he'll go on a rampage. Just ask Gredgeworthy…" Gant jokingly replied.

"Don't I know it." Blaise groaned. "von Karma gets his first penalty and the defense attorney who caused it is shot and killed in an elevator shortly after? Y'know how many strings I had to pull to cover that 'perfect' pricks' ass on that one? A lot! But y'see, what I don't get is why von Karma would have a breakdown and start revolting against me over this. It has nothing to do with his precious little record, y'know?"

"In Manny's defense, he didn't exactly have a stress-free time when I was around."

"I know. That's what we had planned from the start."

"No, I mean from things other than me. The waitress at Blue Bluejay kept spilling beverages on him; some weird Marylyn Manson knockoff spraying him in the face with some nasty cologne when we arrived at Sky-High; us running into Oldbag when we tried to leave Sky-High; some kid at Mad Putter-"

"Wait, you ran into Oldbag!?" Blaise screeched, briefly losing control of his motorcycle and almost crashing into a brown minivan out of sheet shock. "How the hell is she still alive!?"

"That's exactly what Manny asked before she started hitting on me!"

"Oldbag was hitting on you? That's… That's horrible!" Blaise wept, his goggles slightly filling up with tears. "Y'see, no one deserves _that_ kind of punishment! And this is coming from _me_!"

"I know! She rubbed her bony finger against my chest and it felt like she was scraping away a bit of my soul!" Gant bemoaned.

"No wonder von Karma had a breakdown! Why didn't you call and warn me?!"

"I was traumatized, Blaisie! I couldn't think clearly! Plus, even if I had all my faculties at the time, how would I have been able to call you with Manny around?"

"You could have _texted_ me that info instead of pictures of igloos, y'know?" Blaise growled.

"C'mon, Blaisie. I couldn't resist busting your chops over your hatred of igloos. It's like how we always bring up Manny's penalty throughout the month of December." Gant argued.

"Apples and oranges! Y'see, after a long day of work, I'd like nothing more than to just sit back and relax, maybe work a bit on my hog and psychologically torture Sebastian. But do I get that kind of luxury? No! Instead, I've gotta dump all my free time into finding some damn kid who saw too much just because he wanted to play Eskimo and hide in a blasted Igloo! So excuse me for- Gotta go. There's someone on the other line."

The Chief Prosecutor ended the call with his childhood friend and allowed the new one through.

"Blaise Debeste speaking."

"Hi, Pops!" Sebastian chirped, prompting his father to roll his eyes and let out a sigh of contempt.

"Sebastian…" Blaise growled, internally cursing how awful his luck was that his unlovable, worthless son chose this exact moment to be a nuisance.

"Lively day we're having, eh?"

"I'm not in the mood for your pitiful attempts at small talk, you pea-brained pipsqueak. Just tell me how you screwed up and I'll punish you when I get home."

"How do you know that I did something bad?" Sebastian pouted. "For all you know, I coulda done something good!"

"Because you're my stupid son and the only good you've ever done was give me a strong case when I sued the company that produced the bum condom that created you. Now tell me what happened, or I'll come straight home and force it out of you with the coat hanger!"

"A-Alright…" Sebastian nervously replied with a slight gulp. "W-Well… I… I was watching _Dora the Explorer_ on t.v. when a thought hit me…"

"Why do I suddenly not want to hear the rest of the story?" Blaise groaned under his breath.

"I thought to myself, 'Why is Dora trapped in the t.v. when she could be in the house having an adventure with me?' So I got a hammer from the garage and started hitting the t.v. with it over and over again until I broke a big hole right in the center. But you know what I don't understand, Pops?"

"Why I didn't throw you in the ocean the second you were born?" Blaise angrily hissed.

"That's silly, Pops! Babies can't swim!" Sebastian cheerfully stated, completely oblivious to the insult/death threat. "No, what I don't get is that when I smashed the t.v., the hole was right in the middle of Dora's face, but she kept talking and smiling as if nothing happened, and then t.v. went black and quiet. What happened?" The naïve child whimpered.

"Dora disappeared. Hope you're happy, because now's she's gone and no one, not even that creepy talking map of hers, will ever find her." The Chief Prosecutor bluntly stated.

"Waaaaaaah! But I didn't mean to do it! I'm sorry, Dora! I'm sorry!" Sebastian wailed.

"And you should be. Y'know, I thought you would have learned by now that everyone you come into contact with will someday disappear because of you- your mom, your ugly second cousin with the grating voice, and your pediatrician after she threatened to call Child Protective Services on me, to name a few."

"I'm a monster! An ugly, unloadable monster! I'm gonna lock myself up in my room so I can't hurt anyone else!" Sebastian sobbed and sniffled.

"Good, good. You go do that. Y'see, I've got some important business to attend to, and I don't need you making me angrier than…" A sinister, toothy grin spread across Blaise's face as an idea popped into his head. "Actually Sebastian, you wanna help me out with something?"

"Really, Pops? You need _me_?" The naïve boy asked with a tone oozing with excitement and hope.

"Yeah, and you're the only one who can do it. Y'see, I need you tell me every thought that pops into that lifeless void you call a mind until I tell you to stop."

"Alright, Pops. After all, I'm a Debeste..." Sebastian boasted. "If airplanes can fly, why can't we go into space with them?"

"More."

"What kind of bees produce milk?"

"Keep going."

"If I eat myself, will I become twice as big or disappear?"

"Too much." Blaise growled before ending the call. "And now that I'm even angrier, I can now kick twice as much ass! So brace yourself, VON KARMAAAAAAAAA!" The Chief Prosecutor screamed at the top of his lungs as he twisted the handlebars on his motorcycle and increasing his already impressive speed even higher.

As Blaise screamed Manfred's name for all to hear, on the adjacent side of the road, amidst the slow-moving traffic heading into the city, Paolo briefly looked out the window and slowly shook his head as the Cohdopian national anthem continued playing on his radio.

"My, my. That biker fellow certainly has problems, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Mozart-man?" The blond cabby asked as he turned to face Manfred, who at this point was slumped back in his seat, his body limp like a ragdoll with wide, unblinking eyes and unable to say a word.

* * *

Upon arriving at the beach house, it was just as Blaise feared: several pieces of furniture- his bearskin rug, the mounted heads, and his 'salami' painting from his living room- were lying haphazardly inside a lime-green junk removal truck with the name 'Hoover's Movers" painted on the side in large white letters beneath a picture of former-President Hoover giving a thumbs up. And sure enough, right next to the truck was von Karma's Mercedes.

"No!" Blaise roared when he noticed that the portrait had a large nick on the frame. "Wha… What kind of sick bastard can be this cruel to such beautiful art?" The Chief Prosecutor cried, his goggles filling up with tears as he pulled on his fake beard. "VON KARMAAAA!"

* * *

"Aah… This is the life..." Ty sighed with relaxed glee, lying on the couch in his checkered boxers with no shoes on, but still wearing Manfred's coat on top of his grungy undershirt, oddly enough. Though this moment of peace was short-lived when the shifty carny heard a loud, angry scream from outside the house.

"VON KARMAAAA!"

"What the hell?" Ty asked himself as he sat up.

Though Ty's question was immediately answered when Blaise thrusted the door open with a forceful kick, his clenched fists held at his side as he glared daggers at the dumbfounded carny, who couldn't help but reel back with saucer-sized eyes.

"Who the hell are you!? Get out of my beach house!" Blaise roared, a large pillar of flame erupting from his lighter.

"I could be saying the same for you!" Ty retorted in an equally-outraged tone as he sprung to his feet. "Get the hell out of _MY_ beach house!"

"Your beach house? YOUR beach house?! Y'see, this can't be your beach house, because _I_ bought it! And that's _my_ furniture you tossed out like trash!" Blaise snarled as he slowly stomped over to the terrified carny, who responded by grabbing Manfred's cane from off of the floor and holding it like a club.

"Stay back! I ain't afraid to use this!"

"Ha! You think that scares me?" Blaise sneered. "If I can make the sociopathic prosecutor who uses that cane my bitch, then what hope do you have? Wait a minute… Why do _you_ have that cane? And for that matter, why are you wearing von Karma's suit coat? Did you kill him and his family? Did you kill _my_ pawn without _my_ say-so?!" The Chief Prosecutor roared.

"Wha- No!" Ty reeled back in shock. "I may bleed people dry of their savings, but I ain't never killed no one!"

"Y'know, I'm not a moron." Blaise calmly stated as he played with his lighter. "Y'see, von Karma is the only person I've ever known who'd be caught dead in such outdated coat. So if you didn't kill him, then why are _you_ wearing it?"

"von Karma…?" Ty muttered to himself, cocking his head off to the side as he thought about where he heard that name before. "Oh, right!" The seedy carny proclaimed with a snap of his fingers. "That perfection-obsessed geezer who I got this beach house from. Man, what a night!"

"So you did kill von Karma! And now I have to find another morally-depraved lackey to take his place!" Blaise snarled, snatching the cane out of Ty's hands with cat-like reflexes before wielding it as his own weapon.

"H-Hey! You've… You got it all wrong, buddy!" The terrified conman stammered as he took a step back. "I didn't kill him. Though trust me when I say this, I made a killing off of him."

"Explain." Blaise growled as he threw the cane off to the side.

"See, I was just mindin' my own business; runnin' my game booth on the Boardwalk-"

"So you're a carny." Blaise said with a look of disgust.

"I take offense to that, sir!" Ty snapped with a scowl. "Carnies, as the name implies, work at _carnivals_ \- creeps that travel around the country like bands of gypsies that reek of funnel cake. Whereas I am a proud worker at the Boardwalk, where I'm a pillar of the community with my booth, Ty's Terrific Throw Fest, which is good, wholesome fun for children and adults of all ages."

"Yes, and if you don't get back to your story, you'll be a black and blue carny." The disgruntled Chief Prosecutor stated as he brandished the cane.

"Fine." Ty hissed. "As I was sayin', before I was so rudely interrupted, that von Karma guy, along with some other orange guy whose name I didn't bother to remember, was passin' by my booth, talking about how he won $1,000. So naturally, my instincts as a purveyor of games and amusement-"

"A.k.a. being a dirty, leeching carny." Blaise sneered.

"Will you let me tell the story?" Ty huffed.

"Not if you keep on giving me exposition. Just get to the point. Y'see, unlike you, I have a real job and don't have all day to stand around shooting the breeze."

"Ok!" Ty yelled through clenched teeth. "von Karma said my game was a waste of time, I poked at him by bringing up his age and that no one's perfect, he tried to prove me wrong by playing the game, and he eventually won a Rastafarian banana stuffed animal. But not before payin' me one grand, his suit, his shoes, his car, and the deed to this here beach house." The carny smugly grinned as he pulled the deed out of his pocket, which had Blaise's name crossed out and his own name written over it in black marker.

"Ok, so you managed to scam von Karma with some rigged game by challenging his perfection. Y'see, that's the equivalency of tricking a kid to eat your breakfast cereal by telling them that Santa loves it." Blaise stated in an unimpressed tone as he played with his lighter. "Now, hand over the deed and get out of my beach house, or you'll have to deal with me- a man who makes von Karma look like a little kitten by comparison."

"No." Ty bluntly stated with crossed arms.

"No? What do you mean 'No'?" Blaise growled with a mixed tone of irritation and disbelief.

"You heard me; I ain't givin' you this deed. Now, normally I'm the kind of guy who would be willing to cooperate for the right price. But after you insulted both my profession and my booth, I ain't givin' you jack shit. Now once again, _you_ get outta _my_ beach house!" The enraged conman yelled as he pointed to the door.

"Bad move, carny. You've just made a powerful enemy." Blaise stated as he played with his lighter.

"Oh, I'm _sooo_ scared!" Ty sneered with a roll of his eyes. "What could some ugly biker-wannabe geezer like you possibly do to me? Prick my finger with your trashy little badge?" The smug carny jokingly asked before bursting into a fit of laughter.

However, Ty's mirth didn't last long as he started to notice that the biker guy, who had previously been so vocal, was now just standing there in complete silence, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes and a cold visage.

"Uh, why are you staring at me like that…?" The carny nervously asked before taking a step back.

* * *

Dick Gumshoe was quite simple for a 22 year-old man. He never demanded the latest electronic gadgets, he never sought after the most stylish and expensive outfits, and he couldn't care less about social media. His parents were quite proud that their son was such a kind, hardworking soul who wouldn't hesitate to roll up his sleeves to get a task done. And this part-time job as part-time mover was no exception.

Sure, the work was grueling and the clients could be quite demanding, but the scruffy young man did his job with a smile. Because while things weren't pleasant now, soon he would graduate from the Police Academy and finally fulfil his dream of becoming a police officer. He could imagine it now: him bursting into crime scenes, arresting all the bad guys, and getting a firm handshake and a 'job well done' from a prosecutor, and even the Police Chief if he was lucky.

But even though being a mover wasn't his first career choice, Gumshoe was actually pleased with his current job at this swanky beach house. Sure, that one really phallic painting in the living room was kind of creepy, along with those weird heads mounted on the walls, but the owner was a really nice guy. He wasn't treating the poor scruffy man like some kind of machine, allowing him to work at his own pace. Plus, the owner was actually requesting Hoover's Movers' rarely-utilized removal service, meaning that Gumshoe didn't have to worry about accidentally damaging any furniture- an act that had earned him several pay cuts during previous jobs.

However, when Gumshoe was in the master bedroom, taking down a painting of some weird naked guy with a beard posing like _David_ who resembled the man from the painting in the living room, he heard two voices yelling from downstairs- one being the guy who hired the moving company, Ty Stirr, and the other sounding like a guy who spent every second of the day smoking menthols. But as much as Gumshoe wanted to put what he had learned at the Police Academy to good use and intervene, he didn't know who this other guy was. For all he knew, this could be some psycho with a machine gun or a machete who would waste no time killing anyone in his way. So without any hesitation, Gumshoe quickly locked the door and barricaded it with the nightstand.

Luckily, the yelling quickly died down and was replaced with an eerie silence. And while Gumshoe was tempted to step out and investigate, he had watched enough horror movies to know that the bloodiest and most sudden murders happen when things get quiet. However, when the scruffy mover started to hear police sirens from outside the house, followed by the sound of more yelling and a loud, sharp crack, he didn't waste any time in unlocking and unlocking the door, rushing out of the room while holding the phallic _David_ -esque painting like a weapon.

But while Gumshoe didn't know what he'd find when he peered down from the top of the stairs and into the living room, he wasn't expecting the sight that he did see. For on the floor, Ty was lying on his stomach, desperately squirming while one cop held him down and another was putting his hands behind his back before slapping a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. And as the shady shyster was struggling to escape from the officers, some biker guy who bore a striking resemblance to the man in the two erotic paintings was snickering at the scene with a toothy grin.

"You're crazy!" Ty screeched with a distraught look. "I ain't never held no women hostage! I ain't some looney!"

"Oh yeah?!" A gruff detective- a large, tanned bald man with a goatee and sunglasses, wearing a grey trench coat- angrily huffed as he emerged from the cellar, the door to which was forced open, as seen by the huge crack running down the middle. "Then tell it to THEM!"

The detective stepped aside, allowing for three incredibly gaunt, unwashed young women- one with long straight blond hair, one with wavy black hair, and another with curly copper hair- wearing only thin rags to timidly walk up the stairs and enter the room.

"I'm tellin' ya! I ain't never seen 'em before!" Ty desperately argued as the two officers restraining him pulled him up on his feet, each keeping a firm hand on the accused conman's shoulders.

"Well, we found these women chained to a radiator in the basement, quivering and crying when we went down to investigate. Now, I may be no psychologist, but when three young women are this malnourished and distraught to the point of barely being able to speak, they've been tortured over an extended period of time- especially that one on the end." The detective gestured to the girl with copper-haired girl, prompting her fall to the ground crying, curling up in a fetal position as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Salad tongs! Salad tongs! PLEASE! No salad tongs!" The girl screeched as she looked up at the detective with saucer-sized eyes filled with terror.

"And since this is your beach house, as signified by this deed," the detective said, holding up the deed which was in a sealed plastic bag, "you're the prime suspect. Take him away, boys."

"I'll get you for this, old man! Mark my words! You better pray you don't run into me ever again, 'cause the second I see you again, you're dead! Hear me!? You're dead!" Ty screamed at the top of his lungs, angrily thrashing about as the two officers took him out of the beach house.

"Don't worry, Chief Prosecutor Debeste. We'll do everything in our power to make sure he doesn't bother you ever again. Just make sure you send over a prosecutor to make sure Stirr's trial goes over without any issues."

"Good, good." Blaise sneered. "Y'see, I've got the _perfect_ guy in mind who can't refuse."

"Though you will have to buy your beach house again at the impound auction. We can't risk arousing suspicion, after all."

"Don't worry, Detective. Y'see, it's a small price to pay to help things get back to normal."

"Alright… Oh, before I leave, want me to call in some officers to help clean up the place?"

"Y'know, I'll handle all that after the dust settles on this whole matter. For now, I just need to sit down and regain my composure for a minute." Blaise stated, walking over to the couch as the detective left the beach house.

Though before the Chief Prosecutor could sit down, he noticed Gumshoe standing at the top of the stairs and cast the poor mover the same cold, unblinking stare that he gave Ty, along with the silence.

"Uh… You want me to put this back where I found it and leave…?" Gumshoe nervously asked, receiving no response other than the stare. "I'll… I'll take that as a 'yes'." The scruffy mover stated before quickly heading up the stairs, returning the portrait to its proper place, rushing back down, and leaving the beach house in less than a minute."

"Good boy." Blaise snickered under his breath; though his contentment was short-lived when he looked down and saw a huge crimson stain on one of the couch's cushions. "Stupid carny… I flipped that cushion over so I _wouldn't_ have to look at that bloodstain."

But when Blaise flipped the cushion over, his eyes bugged out when he noticed another stain on the other side, prompting him to throw it to the ground as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Oh, it's one thing when you sell my beach house to some filthy amusement park scum! But the second _my_ couch gets involved, you've entered a whole new world of pain!" Blaise roared as he grabbed Manfred's cane before storming out of the beach house, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could.

* * *

Manfred never thought that he would be so happy to sit at his desk preparing a case. Sure, evaluating the perfection of the evidence found by the police and planning the most perfect of testimonies for the witnesses was always a delight; but today it was even better. For Manfred was returning to doing the job that he loved, the job that he excelled at, after that horrible, horrible trip that he would love to forget as soon as possible. And while it was a painful experience, at least it was over and the veteran prosecutor was able to put it behind him.

But unfortunately for Manfred, that unspeakably torturous trip decided to rear its ugly head once more as Blaise suddenly entered his office with a cold, stoic expression on his face and his left arm behind his back, making sure to close the door behind him.

"Debeste." Manfred stated matter-of-factly as he looked up from the case file he was reading. Though while the 'perfect' prosecutor may have appeared calm and collected on the outside, on inside he was completely terrified. But to show fear is a flaw, an utter violation of every principle that the von Karma family stood for.

"Y'know, I'm most impressed to see you so calm after your vacation." Blaise replied as he played with his lighter.

"Would you expect anything else from the perfect prosecutor?" Manfred smirked. "If anything, it was quite the enjoyable experience."

"Y'know von Karma, it's quite unfortunate that you're attempting to deceive me." Blaise growled, prompting Manfred to reel back in his chair.

"What… What would give you such an absurd idea?" The 'perfect' prosecutor nervously asked, gripping his right shoulder as a few drops of cold sweat trickled down his brow.

"Objection!" Blaise yelled, pointing his finger at Manfred, causing a strong gust of wind to push the 'perfect' prosecutor out of his chair and slam his back against the wall behind him with a loud thud. "You sold my beach house to a dirty carny and ruined my good couch! Y'know, I loved that couch like the son I never had!" The corrupt Chief Prosecutor whimpered, his goggles filling up with tears as he pulled at his fake beard.

"You have no definitive evidence to support your claim!" Manfred angrily retorted as he got back up on his feet.

"Look familiar?" Blaise sneered, pulling the veteran prosecutor's cane from behind his back, much to the rigid man's horror.

"W-Where did you get that?"

"Oh, this?" Blaise playfully asked as he held up the cane, looking it over like an exotic treasure. "I got it from your little cohort Tyler Stirr after I made him disappear!" The corrupt Chief Prosecutor snarled as he brandished the ornate stick.

"You're going to assault me, Debeste?" Manfred asked with crossed arms. "Isn't that a bit blunt, even by your primitive standards?"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? I beat the crap outta you, you spend several weeks healing, and we go back to standard relations? Well, too bad, von Karma, because I've got another way to make you suffer, y'see? Something far worse…"

"Debeste, you foolish man…" Manfred smirked with a finger waggle. "While on that 'vacation', and I use the term incredibly loosely, I've been subjected to all sorts of maladies, both physical and mental- mace in my eyes, miniature golf with Gant, a menstruating daughter... There's nothing you can subject me to at this moment that's worse than what I have endured."

"Well, can you say the same about your stuff?!" Blaise manically asked as took the cane and shattered the glass on the curio cabinet before breaking each and every last Faberge egg inside.

"Are you crazier than normal, Debeste?! Those eggs are priceless!" Manfred roared.

"Crazy like a fox! Y'see, you destroy my stuff, I destroy yours! Eye for an eye, von Karma!" Blaise proclaimed with wide eyes and a disturbingly large, toothy grin. "It's in the Bible!"

"When have you ever read the Bible?! I would have thought you'd burst into flames if you ever touched it!" Manfred commented with much outrage in his voice.

"I may not be well-versed in the thing, but I know that anytime anyone screws over God, He strikes them down! Like _THIS_!" Blaise roared as he slammed the cane into the case containing the jewel-encrusted dog collar, shattering the glass before proceeding to whack the collar until it was nothing more than a mangled strip of leather covered in a vibrant rainbow dust.

"Do you know how much time and money was spent trying to locate that collar?!" Manfred snarled, his nostrils flaring. " The collar once worn by Balmung, beloved dog of Klimt van Zeiks, a legendary prosecutor and one of my grandfather's mentors!"

"Oh, please!" Blaise sneered with a roll of his eyes. "The guy was Gant's grandfather's bitch! Though speaking of Gant…" The morally depraved Chief Prosecutor said as he eyed the suit of knight's armor.

"Don't even think about it, Debeste! That armor was worn by my great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather when he defended our family's land from orphan children in need of shelter and a defense attorney who was asking for directions."

"Don't worry, von Karma. I'm not destroying that armor. I'm going to instead give it to Gant as a birthday gift since it seems like something he'd like. Kill two birds with one stone, y'know? But what do we have here…?" Blaise cackled as he slowly walked over to a ceramic Santa statue placed on top of a low bookshelf.

"I'm warning you Debeste, if you destroy that Santa, I'll-"

"Merry Christmas, von Karma!" Blaise sneered as he mercilessly broke off the Santa's head with the cane. "That'll teach you to- Aargh!"

Before the Chief Prosecutor knew it, Manfred had tackled him to the ground in a fit of rage, causing him to let go of the cane upon impact, as the veteran prosecutor proceeded to perfectly punch his deranged superior and childhood friend in the face over and over again.

"This is for giving me that penalty back in 2001!"

Wham! A punch to the right cheek!

"This is for making me go on that vile trip in the first place!"

Bam! A blow to the left cheek!

"And this is for making me babysit your moronic, sniveling son last month!"

Pow! A hit square on the nose!

"Bad move! Y'see, no one calls my worthless excuse for a son a moron but me!" Blaise snarled as he delivered a powerful undercut to Manfred's jaw, forcing the veteran prosecutor to his back, giving the corrupt public official the perfect chance to counterattack.

And sure enough, Blaise didn't hesitate to go on the offensive as he jumped on top of Manfred, repeatedly punching the veteran prosecutor in the face in a similar manner to what was done to him. Though Blaise, being Blaise, went the extra sadistic mile by including a double purple nurple, gleefully twisting the 'perfect' prosecutor's nipples, causing the man to scream out in pain before head-butting the wannabe biker off of him.

However, Blaise didn't stay off of Manfred for long, wasting no time in body slamming his cravat-wearing subordinate while uttering a battle cry/screech.

The two influentially men then spent the next five or so minutes rolling around on the floor- punching, elbowing, and kicking each other in an attempt to gain the advantage. And as one would guess, both prosecutors were not above playing dirty.

Blaise endeavored to use Manfred's own cravat against him by trying to cover his face with it in order to blind him, attempted to strangle him multiple times, and tried to cut his foe with his prosecutor's badge.

As for Manfred, he also used his adversary's attire to his advantage- only his strategy involved trying to suffocate Blaise with that ridiculous fake beard of his; in addition to pressing the weepy man's goggles into his skull and pulling at his long, brown locks. Though the 'perfect' prosecutor's main tactic came into play when he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his stun gun.

However, this didn't go unnoticed by Blaise, who gave Manfred's crotch a swift kick, allowing him to grab the weapon and point it at his barely-conscious adversary as he got back up on his feet.

"Have mercy… Please!" Manfred weakly begged with much terror in his voice.

"There is no mercy." Blaise blunted retorted before jabbing his subordinate with the stun gun, sending 600,000 volts of electricity through the veteran prosecutor's body. "Don't worry, von Karma. I'm not going to let you disappear. Y'see, I still have uses for you." The corrupt public official sneered, jabbing Manfred once again with the stun gun, causing the veteran prosecutor's screams of agony to fill the air.

 **The End**

* * *

 **A/N:** Since this review was posted by a guest, I'll respond to it here.

 **InjusticeforAll:** Your review perfectly captured one of the man reasons why I love the _Ace Attorney_ series. It's the perfect balance between normality and insanity. The world is absurd enough where you can imagine virtually anything happening, while also being grounded in that you can easily picture the characters living normal lives- buying groceries, going to birthday parties, etc.

I'm glad that you loved Kharmen Gavin as much as I loved writing her. Though among my OCs, she's unique in that she was actually inspired by my own family- being an exaggeration of my own overprotective mother and my very extroverted, yet loving, aunt who will get into an argument with anyone who dares to disagree with her. In fact, Kharmen's phrase of "pootie tanging" is a term often used by my aunt to refer to the act of ripping someone a new one, particularly if they hurt a family member.

I really appreciate that you took the time to review Chapter 9 of _The von Karma Family Beach Trip_. It means a lot to me.


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